Comfort
by FortuneFaded2012
Summary: Madge Undersee is distraught when both of the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games are people she knows and loves. She develops a strange tenuous connection with Gale Hawthorne, who is frustrated and saddened by the events of the Games. Their reliance on each other begins to shift into an unconventional comfort that supports them through the oncoming war.
1. Comfort

**A/N: I have been thinking about the possible things that could have occurred between Gale and Madge during the first book. How damaged they would both be from losing Katniss. I hope this measures up to a decent depiction of the possibilities. Happy reading.**

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><p>I feel like I might vomit when Katniss volunteers as tribute. I sense that familiar tense feeling in my stomach and chest, but I choke the bile down with all my might. Gale is helping her on stage before I get a grip on myself. He hauls Prim away from her with ease. The look on his face is devastating. I am bitter about the way he treated me earlier. Yet, I wish we had thought of <em>this <em>actually happening. My heart is wrenching for him, for Prim, for Katniss. It feels like it wants to rip in every direction. Moments later Peeta Mellark's name is read and another piece of my heart wants to rip toward him. He's so gentle. No one will volunteer for him and I choke back a sob. For once I know not one, but two tributes.

Both people that I have considered friends at one time or another. My mind races with images. Six year old Peeta drawing chalk animals with Delly Cartwright in the square. Katniss sitting with me in the lunch room, commenting on the weather. Peeta hugging me and telling me that we can be siblings, bake bread all day, and play stick ball with Delly…all that before he made popular friends and lost track of me. Katniss coming to my back door with strawberries and Gale, smiling at me warmly and scolding him for his rudeness. Ten year old Peeta playing checkers with me on my porch. The images shimmer and turn rapidly in my mind. It all taunts me into oblivion.

After my father has read the Treaty of Treason I find my shaky legs forcing me toward the Justice building. I have to see them. I just have to.

The two rooms that tributes are given to conduct their farewells, are located in the left hallway on the first floor. When I arrive the Everdeens and Mellarks are already entering their children's rooms. I set my eyes downcast to avoid the heart wrenching site, petrified of the look on Primrose Everdeen's face. I'm caught off guard when I see Mr. Mellark enter Katniss' room shortly after leaving Peeta.

Behind me I hear some of Peeta's friends approaching. I don't speak to them. Instead, I finger the mockingjay pin on my chest. It strikes me with an idea. _Perhaps if Haymitch sees the pin he will think of my aunt, the district partner that he couldn't save. Maybe he will be inclined to help Katniss and Peeta. _

I wait my turn and go to Katniss first; she looks confused yet relieved to see me. My heart has never felt so full and tight in my chest. She doesn't know how much her quiet companionship has meant to me. _She was the only person that understood me. _I silently scold myself for thinking of her in the past tense already. _She's a fighter, she can make it. _I steal my nerves, trying to be brave for her. I press my shaking legs forward, unpinning the golden bird as I come to rest in front of her.

"They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" I say as I stretch my palm out, offering the gift to her.

"Your pin?" she asks hesitantly.

I feel myself nod as I offer to pin it on her dress. My fingers shake slightly. I don't let her refuse the gift; I try to stress how important it is that she wears it as her token. I ask her to promise me.

After a beat of silence she firmly answers, "Yes" to my requested promise. With that I kiss her quickly on the cheek and silently depart.

A tall Peacekeeper closes the door behind me. I lean against the wall in the hallway and try to catch my breath for several moments. Gale Hawthorne glares at me with tears in his eyes, just before he heads into Katniss' room. I can't stand to be under the fire of his venomous gaze so I go bid farewell to Peeta to escape him.

The next Peacekeeper opens the door for me as I approach. I've been in these chambers before. Father showed me once when I came to visit him at work. Peeta is sitting on the velvet couch. His face is puffy and flushed from tears. I haven't seen him cry since he broke his arm when he was eight.

"Madge?" The question in his tone eats at my heart.

I feel myself wringing my hands as I approach him. He is strong and smart; two things that will help him survive in the arena. He is _Peeta _though, the boy who can cheer you up any day and make you laugh until your sides hurt. He doesn't deserve this, neither does Katniss. They are both too good and pure for this.

"Do you remember when we used to play with Delly all day in the summers?" My voice is rushed and shaky. He just nods and his shoulders droop a little. I tentatively sit next to him on the couch. It is soft and lumpy.

"You're still the same person Peeta. Don't ever let that change. No matter where you are," my hand travels into his lap and our fingers lace together. His blue eyes are glassy still. I squeeze his hand and try to express how important it is to be him. An image speeds across my vision of him staring at Katniss in the lunch room. I smile softly.

"Tell Katniss how you feel about her. While you have the chance," I say it firmly and grip his hand tighter. For a moment he looks confused, but he nods. His hand is warm and soft in mine. He still smells like the bakery. I feel like I might burst into tears.

"Stay strong. You can survive this. District 12 can have a winner this year. Both of you are capable."

I want desperately for one of them to return. My heart can't decide who is more important, but he needs to know that I have confidence in both of them. _I can't believe how much talking I am doing_. Peeta suddenly releases my hand and hugs me to his chest tightly. Now the tears are dripping down my cheeks.

"You're still my imaginary sister Madge," he says roughly into my hair. I pull myself away from him before I become an even bigger wreck. He watches me back away slowly. He is crying again. I want to hold him, but I can't stay here. He waves halfheartedly at me as the Peacekeeper beckons me from the room, my time is up.

In the hallway Gale is fighting with a Peacekeeper about how he didn't have enough time with Katniss. I stand at a distance and watch his tirade with sadness. After a few moments a few more men and women come forward and pull him away. I follow silently. They throw him out the front entrance and one Peacekeeper deals a swift kick to his abdomen. He winces in pain, but doesn't shout. He grips his stomach as he sits on the steps.

"Are you alright?" I ask timidly. I'm not sure what has possessed me. His deep grey eyes glare at me once more before he places his face in his palms. For a moment I hesitate, unsure if I should join him on the step or walk home. His voice bursts loudly through his palms before I can decide.

"I never even got to tell her I love her," his voice is vulnerable with pain.

I sink down beside him. It's my weakness. People in pain, I yearn to help them. It probably stems from my mother's sickness. I've always cared for her and helped her. I let my hand rest gently on Gale's shoulder. His muscles are tense below my fingers. The cool marble of the Justice Building steps seeps through my thin dress.

"You can tell her when she comes home," I say softly. He shakes his head in his hands before he looks up at me. My hand is still resting on his blue reaping shirt.

"What if she doesn't!" He is lashing out at me again, but _he is in pain_ I tell myself. I shake my head softly and give his shoulder a squeeze.

"She will. If she doesn't, then you should know that…she cares very deeply for you, I can tell." My voice is smooth like I am shushing a crying child. People are filing out of the main entrance to our left. I let my eyes follow my father as he exits with his attendant. His shoulders are rolled forward slightly, his features tightly set in place. I wonder briefly what he thinks of the 'strawberry girl' being reaped.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think you know her?" Gale says furiously. The accusation draws my eyes back to his face.

"She's my friend. I know that she looks at you the way she looks at Prim. And we both know that she loves Prim more than anything," I say firmly. I won't yell at him. That's not what he needs. Not when our mutual 'best friend' is being sent to the slaughter.

Something in Gale's face shifts and I remove my hand from his shoulder_. It has probably overstayed its welcome anyway_. His jaw tenses as he looks through the crowd in the square. There are lines of grateful people, waiting to purchase food to celebrate their children making it through another year. It makes me uneasy, but I understand.

"Thanks," Gale mutters as he rises from the steps and glances back at me. I just nod and watch him retreat toward the Seam.

He has two families to protect and provide for now. Many people who need him. Who will tend his needs?

* * *

><p>I lay in the grass staring at the clouds in the sky. Katniss and Peeta looked more than amazing last night during the opening ceremony. They were like fiery demi-gods in a chariot pulled by charcoal black horses. My heart had skipped merrily at the sight and I could barely contain the urge to jump around in excitement. The thing that drew my attention the most was their clasped hands. I pondered over it in bed last night. Had Peeta told Katniss how he felt? I doubted it, but they were portraying themselves unified. <em>A risky move<em>. The commentators had made a point to discuss it for several minutes. Sponsors are probably seriously considering the District 12 tributes for once.

A particularly fluffy cloud shaped somewhat like a bear is floating quickly across the wide blue expanse above me. I watch it collide with a neighboring mass of clouds. Someone clears their throat. When I look up I see Gale perched at the fence that runs along my side yard.

"What did you think?" He says simply. I know what he means. _What did I think about Peeta holding Katniss' hand and the way that she blew kisses at the crowd?_ I prop myself up on my elbows and stare at him for a moment while I ponder it again. A soft smile works its way onto my lips.

"Sponsors galore for sure," I say as I let my back fall to the earth once more. This time I fold my right arm below my head. I search the clouds again. Gale stands over me, his face blocking my view considerably. He has an impish look in his eyes that confuses me. His normal expressions towards me are boredom, anger, and annoyance.

"I bet you thought Mellark was a regular old Adonis," Gale waggles his eyebrows at me. I snort and roll my eyes at him. He drops a large leather game bag next to my head before he sits cross-legged beside me.

"I prefer tall, dark, and handsome," I say casually, but I can't prevent the smirk that appears on my face, "Peeta is none of those things, well maybe handsome…but he's practically like a brother to me." I laugh and can't believe I am being so cavalier with Gale Hawthorne. When I look back at his face I see the mirth in his eyes.

"Tall, dark, and handsome huh? Aren't you supposed to marry a merchant?" Gale says and his tone is a little bitter during the last part. I knit my eyebrows together and chew my thumb nail for a moment. My eyes focus on the sky above as I speak.

"I've never cared much what other people think. Just because the Capitol has endorsed class restrictions here, doesn't mean I intend to adhere by them," I sigh heavily and steal a glance at him again, "every Capitol and merchant man my father parades through the parlor thinks that I'm the type to idly sit by, obedient and silent. They think I am a ditzy blonde who will sleep with them at the drop of a hat. I don't want to be a prize because my father has wealth and authority. I want to be cherished. Last week one of those Capitol cameramen tried to force his way into my bedroom!"

I don't know what has come over me, but I just can't seem to stop talking these last few days. Being here with Gale is no different. _Since when do I ever tell anyone about my misadventures in the Undersee household?_ Even if Gale hates my slimy guts, he at least has the audacity to look disgusted by my story.

"Men from the Seam are hard workers and they know how to love someone. Really _love _them, because there is nothing else. I don't care if I starve to death as long as my husband actually loves me for me," Gale is eyeing me cautiously as I confess my hope.

I feel like I am getting a little preachy so I add in another snarky remark, "Besides tall, dark, and handsome is more mysterious. And all the merchant girls say Seam men are well endowed and I'm told that size _does_ matter." I waggle my eyebrows suggestively and nearly burst into laughter at the look on his face. This might be the only time in my life that I get the better of Gale, because he doesn't have a retort for my ridiculous comment. _I honestly don't feel like Madge Undersee right now._ I've always kept my inner thoughts to myself, I've never even joked around much with Katniss. _Having your friends sent to the slaughter makes you do strange things I guess_.

Gale gains control of his voice again and now it seems he is going to play along, "I've heard some things about merchant girls too," he says as he leans back and scans the sky with his eyes.

I laugh softly and smile at him. This is the first time I have noticed how long his eyelashes are, thick and dark. He smiles back at me and I think that if I were standing I probably would have just fallen over. I have never seen him smile. His repertoire of facial expressions has really been expanding with me today. _He has nice teeth_, I muse.

"What kinds of things?" I ask playfully. His smile grows wider and I think my heart just dropped low into my stomach. Perhaps I've bitten off more than I can chew, by playing with Gale. He's made of fire and I am simply fanning the flames.

"They like to scream," he says suggestively. I raise my right eyebrow at him and roll to my side to prop my head on my arm. I face him and look at him critically. A wicked part of my inner self urges onward without much thought.

"Is that so? I heard they like to bite." _I don't know where this stuff is coming from_, the dark deep recesses of my brain somewhere. Gale mirrors my stance as he rolls on his side to face me. He skims his eyes up and down my body sizing me up.

"Oh, that must have been you at the slag heap last week with Dax Kline. He said he brought a feisty blond there who bit him," he says this so casually that I almost believe he is being serious. I laugh and appraise him. My eyes travel the length of his body like he did to me moments before. Lain beside me in this way I see how much longer his legs are than mine.

"Impossible, I've never been to the slag heap. Dax Kline doesn't meet two of my standards anyway." I wave my hand airily as if I am too superior for the boy in question. Gale laughs and I decide that I am really starting to like the sound. It is strong and raspy.

"I'm sure you've taken plenty of girls to the slag heap, surely one of them was the biting type." Gale's eyes flash at my words and in my mind I wonder how many girls he _really_ has taken there. I've heard some stories, but I never saw the draw in the place. _Must be a Seam thing_.

"Taken a few there, no biters though. Are you a biter Madge?" His question is innocent and playful, but I find myself blushing profusely. My flirting abilities have been stretched to capacity and I don't think I can hold up this ruse any longer. Gale leans closer when he notices my blush and seems positively delighted. I get the feeling he is about to say something about my kissing adventures, but I cut over him.

"I wouldn't know. Haven't had the opportunity," I roll onto my back again, "What did you think of Katniss' appearance last night? I've never seen her look so beautiful," I say softly. The grass beneath me prickles my sensitive arms. The pale skin rises in gooseflesh. Gale sighs and allows himself to lower completely into the grass. He stares at the sky for a few moments. The soft breeze ruffles his hair and blows my own long curls.

"She was gorgeous, but she wasn't my Catnip." I chew on his words for a moment, fleshing them out in my mind. It is easy to see what he means. Katniss wasn't acting like herself in the slightest. If anything, that's what it was, an act. I don't blame her for selling short though, you have to do everything within your power to save yourself in the Games. Gale picks absentmindedly at the blades of grass between us. For a long while we lay there in silence, letting our eyes skim the sky and our hands dance languidly through the tall grass.

"Did you bring something to trade?" I ask as I suddenly remember that his intention for coming here probably had something to do with items he had foraged in the forest.

Gale sighs and throws a handful of grass to the side before he sits up, staring at his game bag. From my angle I can see the stretch of his back muscles as he leans toward the bag to retrieve it. He expertly unties the knot keeping the leather bag closed. His hands delve into it, producing a worn tin container. I sit up as well, intrigued. Usually he brings bags or buckets of strawberries, but this tin seems too small for that.

"The strawberries that are left aren't quite ripe yet. I thought maybe I could interest your dad in some fresh mint leaves. Better quality than any bought at the apothecary. They probably wait for their mint to come by train, days old by the time it gets on the shelf here," Gale informs me as he lifts the lid on the tin to reveal an array of vegetation. The mint leaves are tucked on the left side of the tin. The aroma from the container is heavenly and I find myself leaning closer to him to smell it more easily. Gale notices and raises it toward my nose for better access.

"I'll buy the mint leaves. It's my favorite tea," I say contentedly as he lowers the tin. I briefly remember Katniss talking about her fondness for the drink as well. A small smirk spreads across his lips.

"What will you trade me for them?" His question seems weighted with something other than interest in bartering.

I feel my cheeks flushing with heat again. In an attempt to keep them from view, I rise and gingerly wipe the grass from my dress. Gale is on his feet quickly, with a catlike movement. He leans close to me and raises his hand to my hair, pulling blades of stray grass and leaves from the depths of golden curls. I fight valiantly against another blush due to his proximity. I feel extremely foolish. _I've fallen right into the Gale Hawthorne trap_, just like nearly every girl that wanders into his crosshairs.

"I have some coins in the house," I force the words from my lips and start walking toward my back porch. Gale follows silently behind me, his steps soft and quick. His long strides let him overcome me in a few paces. When I reach the bottom step he grabs for my wrist and swivels me toward him, ensnaring me with his grey gaze.

"What's the problem Undersee, not interested in playing anymore?" His voice is more forceful now. I register the thought that he probably is under the impression that I find his advances disgusting. _Doesn't he remember the tall, dark, and handsome qualifications?_ He surely has all three, and the mysterious factor too.

"You love Katniss, what are _you _playing at?" I burst out venomously. He releases his grip on my wrist as if I have burned him intensely. A moment of hurt flashes through his eyes.

"Sorry, you're right," he says simply. I immediately step into the kitchen and pull some coins from the drawer by the door. A few deep breaths ensue, before I return to him.

"You're just upset Gale, we both are. Don't lose yourself watching her this way." My words are purposeful and directed straight at his heart. The coins clank softly as they fall into his open palm. He nods, seemingly seeing through me. After a moment, he fills my hand with the mint leaves and steps back.

"Thanks again Madge," he says as he backs away.

Two things confuse me about his words. First, he actually used my name and second I don't see what I did this time that was worth thanking. I suppose, taking his mind off the Games and Katniss was probably my good deed. I smile softly and wave my free palm as he hops the fence.

* * *

><p>When I urged Peeta to tell Katniss how he feels for her I didn't quite expect him to do it in front of the entire country, with Ceasar Flickerman prompting him. As soon as the words leave his mouth I find myself standing in shock with my hand pressed tightly against my chest. A collective gasp reverberates through the square behind me. The interviews are mandatory viewing and nearly everyone is here tonight. Most people prefer to watch the actual Games from the comfort of their living rooms, but pre-game events are usually publicly viewed. The crowd in the Capitol is obviously in an uproar.<p>

I have to blink myself back into reality several times before I turn to the citizens behind me. Gale is sitting with his family a few rows back. His jaw it set tight, his eyes hardened. His mother is gripping his arm. She knows how he feels about Katniss. Katniss, who is blushing, her face enlarged on every screen around us. I know her well enough to see that her eyes hold a hint of shock. She didn't know Peeta was intending to do this. She will be angry, maybe even physical with him. She bows her head to try and hide the red that is seeping through her olive cheeks.

Peeta for the most part looks mildly shocked at himself, but recovers quickly. I notice that the Mellarks are uneasy. The crowd behind me is buzzing as people whisper loudly to each other. I see a few Peacekeepers exchanging confused looks. This is definitely a first for our district; actually it is probably a first for any district. No tribute has ever declared this kind of interest in their fellow contenders. _This could change everything_.

Suddenly I realize that Peeta has done Katniss a great service by revealing his feelings in front of the audience. Now she will be desirable. He painted the picture that she has men falling at her feet and women bickering with jealousy. He has given her the gift of sponsors. My heart clenches tightly. As the interview ends I watch Katniss shift uncomfortably. She probably hasn't realized how fortunate she has become. Cinna has designed her into a beautiful young woman and Peeta has made her enviable. I just hope that they haven't painted a large target on her back for the career tributes to aim at, figuratively.

As soon as he is able, Gale bolts in the direction of the mines. I hurry after him, my feet pounding on the cobblestone street. The road quickly turns to dust as I exit the merchant quarter. Gale has a significant advantage on me and his long strides are increasing the gap by the minute. I push my legs onward as he rounds a corner, heading toward the slag heap. The light is fading as it becomes dusk. The large mound of excess materials from the mine looms ahead. The pile is larger than some of the neighboring treetops. My breath is coming out in short gasps when I finally reach him. I bend over, clapping my hands onto my knees to catch my breath. Gale hears my panting and looks up at me. His facial expression is beyond frustrated. His grey eyes teeming with unshed anger scan me with annoyance.

"What the fuck Undersee?" He growls at me. I take in a few more deep breaths and try to subdue my intense heart rate. I haven't run in quite a while. I ignore the venomous way he is looking at me and focus on his pain. _He needs me_, even if he doesn't see it.

"Are you alright?" I ask timidly. I step forward several times, slowly closing the gap between us. Gale exhales a long groaning sigh. He picks up a rock and hurls it over the heap. I watch it sail through the air and barely hear the resounding thunk when it hits the ground on the other side. Gale kicks his foot in the dirt roughly. I look down and see that being this close to the mines has already covered my dress, shins, and shoes in a film of black coal dust. The air here feels thicker somehow.

"Gale, he did her a favor," my voice is quiet and coaxing. My answer cuts him even deeper though. He releases a strangled cry of anger.

"A favor? Now she'll feel guilty killing him." Gale forcefully leans against a nearby pine tree. The branches shiver under his weight.

"Yes a favor, he made her desirable. He painted a picture of her that will get her sponsors. Besides, you know she couldn't have killed him…she would never have been able to return here with that weighing on her shoulders." As the words leave my mouth I know they are nothing but the truth. There is no way that Katniss will be able to live with herself if she causes his death. This can only end badly now though. If they team up and fend off the careers, they'll only have each other to deal with, hoping in vain that someone else kills them first.

"He really does like her. He has for years. He'll protect her." The words slip from my lips as a means of reassurance, but Gale crumples at the sound. I step close to his side, ready to cradle his large body in my arms. My hand is reaching for his arm tentatively when he interrupts my movements.

He lets out another strangled sound and closes the remaining gap between us. His hands roughly grab my face, turning my chin up. The assault of his lips is frantic, desperate. His lips taste like beef stew, but something inside me doesn't mind. Part of my mind is intrigued by his actions, while the other more logical side is screaming _pull away._ The soft pillows of his lips grind against mine roughly. I feel his hands snaking around my body, one gripping the back of my head, and the other pulling my waist tightly against him. His actions are nearly suffocating. My hands and arms finally find the ability to work. I use them to shove at his chest with all my might. I step back several times and stand grasping my arms tight around my middle.

"Gale, what were you thinking?" I gasp out the question as I tentatively raise a hand to my bruised lips. Tears are threatening to burst through my barriers at any moment.

"I'm just…frustrated." He waves his hands widely before pressing the heels of them into his eyes. He shakes his head roughly.

"You can't…you can't just do that! You didn't have a right to take that from me." My voice breaks on the last syllable. Before I can stop them the tears are spilling from the corners of my eyes. Gale steps forward, raising his arms toward me. I shake my head furiously and release a small sob. I wipe at the tears and choke on another cry.

"Take what Madge?" His voice is less grating, gentler with a hint of worry. Apparently wounded people are his weakness too. I shake my head through the blinding tears. I lick my bottom lip and taste the metallic blood that is leaking from a crevice.

"My first kiss, you didn't deserve it. And it wasn't lovely and wonderful, it was forceful." He looks guilty now and I smile bitterly at him.

"And you bit me! It hurts." I run my tongue over the sensitive area and feel a lump forming, the beginnings of a fat lip. I sigh dejectedly. I had wanted my first kiss to really mean something, as silly as the idea seemed. Now it's too late for that.

Gale steps forward, gripping my arms in his large hands. I close my eyes and try to will away the tears that are still billowing out of me. He runs his fingers softly over my skin. Somehow I end up folded in his arms. My face presses firmly against his chest, near his heart. The furious beating sounds like a drum rhythm. I sigh deeply as he begins coasting his palms in gentle circles on my back. My emotions feel tampered with. One minute he's yelling at me, the next minute he's attacking me with his lips, then after that he's trying to sooth me. I feel massively confused.

"I'm sorry Madge. I was overwhelmed. I needed to feel something, anything other than anger." His mouth brushes against my hair as he talks softly. His hot breath tickles across me. Everything feels alarming. I want to speak, but the words remain notted in my throat, like someone is gripping tightly to my vocal folds.

"You just – I –," It's clear that he doesn't know what to say. _I don't know what to say either, so that makes us even at least._ I shiver against his touch as the coolness of the air suddenly registers in my brain.

"Can I try that again? For you this time, because you deserve a better first than that…" If it was any other boy, I might think they were trying to attempt another go at me. I feel something different as Gale says it. I know he means what he says. He is a straight talker, an honest person. He and I are both struggling with lost loved ones, who may never make it home alive. I nod softly against his chest and peer into his face. His grey eyes have a determined glow now.

He cups my face in his hands so gently that his fingers feel like a whisper of wind. His thumb softly runs across my bottom lip, feeling the bulge where his teeth drove into my skin. He leans low and close, his eyes focusing deeply on my own. I can't look away as he draws in close enough to press his lips softly against mine. One of his hands slips down the curve of my neck, over my shoulder and slides into the small of my back. It's a strangely soothing caress. I let my eyes flutter shut as he gently maneuvers our lips in an unfamiliar dance. It's slow and relaxing, the kiss that I could only imagine before. I muse that my imagination wasn't creative enough. I feel a wetness as Gale gently glides his tongue over my injured lip. Somehow he coaxes my mouth slightly apart and the kiss takes on a deeper quality. My mind is filling with an intrigued excitement. The illogical side of me is saying; let this be…_ignore the fact that he isn't yours_. I am starting to feel slightly faint, so I grip the front of his shirt tightly in my fists. After a few more moments my left hand slides around his side to rest on the muscles of his strong back.

Something about my action stirs Gale back to reality. He pulls from my grasp, leaving me dazed. He gently tucks my hair behind my ear. His eyes are questioning me, _was that better? Did I fix this…whatever we have?_ I nod my head as best I can. Everything in my body feels heightened. The air around me seems different even.

"Go home Madge, I need to think." His voice is lower than normal, almost hoarse. I don't want to protest, but my feet seem rooted to the spot. My hand involuntarily touches my mouth again. This time my lips are tingling with a different sensation. I clear my throat lightly. I find myself backing away, still staring at him. For some reason my body won't turn and just walk away. He watches me with those grey eyes that seem to pierce me straight through the chest.

"I'll see ya around Undersee," he says in that rougher voice. I just nod meekly before I turn on my heel and run home.

This time I don't give him a second glance.

* * *

><p>He doesn't come by to trade with me, talk to me, or sit with me. He doesn't stop by to even say a brief hello. I don't understand why my heart suddenly expects even that much from him. I know where we stand, where we are supposed to be divided. I engross myself in watching the Hunger Games, following Peeta and Katniss' every move. When the announcement is made that they can pair up with district partners I scream so loud that I wake my mother up from her morphling induced sleep. Once Katniss has found the nearly dying Peeta, covered in mud, I sigh with relief. The banter between them brings a smile to my lips, but Peeta's vital signs scare me considerably. As soon as Katniss draws her thin face in and settles her mouth on his I feel a rush of emotions. Happiness for Peeta, sadness for Gale, a strange sense of jealousy and excitement that they may make it back together.<p>

I'm not entirely surprised when the back door receives several angry knocks a half-hour later. I open it gingerly and stare into Gale's hurt face. His dark hair is tangled, obviously from his frantic fingers. His jaw is tight, his eyes glassy. I kneel to untie his shoes before I beckon him inside. He allows me to do this. His silence is deafening. I take him gently by the hand and lead him toward my bedroom, away from the staff's prying eyes. Our feet pad softly up the stairs. We stand side by side at the entrance to my room and Gale shoots me a questioning gaze. He enters after a moment, running his palm along the faint blue of my wall. I close the door softly and lean against it. The hard wood is cool against my back.

"I knew it would happen eventually. I think she realizes that's her way out." His voice is low and steady. It surprises me. I nod my agreement, folding my arms behind me as I adjust my support against the door.

"I feel empty," he says it so softly I almost think that I imagine it. His words pull me from my perch. I immediately grab onto his shirt and pull him into my arms. My head shakes furiously against his chest as I murmur soft assurances. I peer up into his face, trying to smile reassuringly. He smirks slightly and closes his eyes while he shakes his head. He feels bitter.

"Come here." I pull his hand toward my bed.

He seems apprehensive, but I don't let him falter. I pull him onto the soft mattress and tuck my back tightly against his chest. He sighs softly as he rests his face against my neck. My fingers grasp his left hand and pull his arm over my body, so that he is nearly enveloping me. We fit together like spoons inside a silverware drawer.

"Stay with me. You can forget, just for a little while." My whisper fills the silent air.

Gale squeezes our clasped fingers together. His heady forest scent is filling my nostrils. I smile softly and find a patch of wall to focus on. The soft texture of his lips sends a chill down my spine when he speaks against the skin on my neck.

"Just for a little while," he affirms.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I don't really know if this will be a one time deal, or whether my mind will decide to continue this. For now, I hope that you enjoyed the brief angsty glance at their strange attachment to each other. I always mused that Madge probably never kissed a boy before she met Gale. And I always thought he probably took advantage of her during a moment of frustration. The idea of them comforting each other is intriguing and the strange way they were connected in the book always had my mind buzzing. Let me know if you have any pointers on how to make this story better. I hope you enjoyed reading. Thanks!**


	2. Take me with you

**A/N: I always wanted to come back and add to this story. I feel as though there should be a chapter for each book, so you can expect a third installment after this. Thank you so much for being encouraging and lovely readers. I hope that you enjoy this take on Madge/Gale's friendship.**

* * *

><p>It is almost ten in the morning when I pull the wooden gate open at the back of the Mayor's garden. I don't have a watch of my own, but I can tell the time by the height of the sun and the way that the air is starting to buzz with a mid-morning heat. The mines were closed today, so I got a bit of gathering done. My heart wasn't in hunting, but I managed to get a plump rabbit and two squirrels.<p>

The gate creaks softly as I shove it aside. The fence and bushes along the back of the yard are pristine. Just the way they were the last time I came here with a delivery. _That must have been months ago_. The surroundings are the same, the environment is unchanged, but the most vital part of my world has vanished.

It took me only a day to shake the fear and sadness from my limbs to venture into the woods without her. I promised her that I would provide for her family, though the promise was tainted with the fact that she is willing to sacrifice everything to save Mellark. _It would hurt less if he wasn't so hard to hate_. Losing Katniss for the second time has cut a larger hole in my heart than the first, _maybe because I know that I've practically lost her for good now_.

A deeper feeling than loss has kept me from coming here to the Mayor's back door though. I haven't been able to work up the nerve to face Madge Undersee. Even when I passed the strawberry patch two days ago and saw enough ripe pickings to fill a container to bring her family, I still couldn't muster enough nerve to return. Since the whipping I have struggled with the fact that she may have damn near saved my life. Helping Katniss, Haymitch, and Peeta prepare for this year's games allowed me to center my attention elsewhere.

I make an arc across the manicured lawn, avoiding the side yard where a passerby might see me approaching the Mayor's home to sell illegal items. My nose is assaulted by the perfumed flowers that are lined neatly in rows along the back stoop. I wrinkle my nose to rid it of pollen and sigh deeply before raising my fist to knock three times on the heavy wooden door. There is a beat of silence followed by a shuffling noise. The door opens softly as Madge peers around it.

I almost scoff at her expression of surprise, because who else would be knocking on the back entrance. The thought of someone else working up the gall to attempt a trade with the Mayor is laughable. I still remember the day that Katniss proposed the idea to me. I had laughed in her face, because it was sheer stupidity to waltz up to a Capitol official with illegally obtained items from the forest. When we completed our first trade with him, it took me nearly an hour before I let Katniss bask in her glory. I still can't believe we continue to trade with the man, as if he were a normal citizen and not the very person who could have us hung publicly in the town square.

Madge clears her throat as she pulls the door open more freely, "Hello Gale."

I grunt a response as I untie the leather cord of my game bag to retrieve my items for trade. Madge inspects the plants I've brought her and nods in approval. She produces some coins as payment. I place the tin of herbs back in my game bag and swing it up to rest over the crook of my shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that a year ago I traded her mint from this very same tin. _A year ago things were so different_. I nod a solemn farewell to her and swivel on the heel of my boot.

"Take me with you," Madge whispers just as I am turning to make my way down her steps.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and turn to gape at her. My game bag is heavy; the leather strap bites down like it's riding on pure bone. With a large sigh she pulls the door shut. Her back is pressed tightly against it and her body is less than a foot from my own. I step back once, to filter space between us. She chews on the inside of her cheek, while her fingers twirl circles in the waist of her skirt.

"I need to get away. Will you take me to the forest? - To the place where you pick the strawberries."

Her voice is soft, like the midsummer breeze. Her wide blue eyes are hopeful, but uncertain. I peer into them for several moments, marveling at the glassy shade. It's definitely not the color of the sky, or the blue bonnets that grow in the Seam, or even the color of my only reaping shirt. The blue is a shade of its own, deep like dark water. I've never allowed myself to stare into her eyes for too long, I know I could dive below the depths and have trouble resurfacing.

The only word that makes its way out of my mouth is, "What?" Which is strange, because a simple_ no_ would have sufficed. My right hand snakes up behind my neck, rubbing roughly.

"My mother is very ill. I need a break from the gloom, what with Katniss and Peeta-" Her voice dies out abruptly at the mention of my hunting partner, the girl who I have a broken relationship with. The girl…who will be fighting for her life in three days time. The hairs on my arm seem to bristle at the mention of her name. I swallow thickly. My insides feel torn, because I suddenly feel like Madge might be missing her as much as I am.

_Or maybe she misses Peeta_, I never determined whether she had feelings for him. She seemed to deny any interest in merchants during the last games. I cough lightly to clear my throat as I set my game bag in the grass behind the stoop.

"The forest is no place for fun," I tell her evenly as I set her with a tight gaze. She nods, chewing the inside of her mouth once more.

"Listen, if that's what you want…and it's only once, then I could bring you there. I'm just warning you that it's no place for a girl like you." Her eyes flicker, as if she is blanching at the way I categorize her. Her nervous fingers continue to slide patterns on the cloth of her skirt.

"What time should I meet you?" The softness has returned to her voice.

My eyes drift toward the Seam, pondering the possibilities. Tomorrow is Sunday, _a good day to sell at the Hob_; really my only day, since I've got work in the mines the rest of the week. I can't bring the Mayor's daughter there so she'll be wasting some valuable trading time in my day.

A more pressing guilt in my chest tells me that I should give her one happy moment in light of what we may witness in three days. Katniss could be killed and there will be nothing we can do about it but pick up the broken pieces of what is left behind. The guilt nags at me that Madge's only form of friendship comes from two people who are headed for certain death. She seems sad, lonely even.

"I leave before sunrise, that too early for you?" I eye her warily. She shakes her head lightly, indicating that the time is fine.

I nod and rub my hands together, "Settled then. Meet me in the meadow." I glance down at her attire, sliding my eyes from her clean pressed blouse to the flowing folds of her beige skirt. Her creamy legs are visible, two thin spindles that end in white socks and pale blue shoes.

"Wear something meant for dirt," I gesture toward her. She smiles slightly. Her cream colored fingers tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"See you," She murmurs and with that she disappears back into the house. I stand for a moment, staring at the white metal door before I turn and head toward Victor's Village to check on Prim and Mrs. Everdeen.

* * *

><p>The air is crisp with the cold of dawn as I walk across the Seam. It will warm up by mid-morning. The nights have been predictably cold for the season and the days hot and muggy by afternoon. I continue to think about the weather's effect on trapping as I make my way to the edge of the district. I find Madge waiting for me in the Meadow. She is dressed in black pants and a plaid buttoned shirt, standing half hidden on the Meadow's edge. In the shadow of the trees she almost looks Seam. The tall grass in the Meadow coats my boots in dew as I trudge toward her.<p>

"Good morning," she greets softly, this time wringing those creamy hands in the edge of the faded flannel shirt. Up close I can see that it must be her father's. I scan the rest of her attire quickly. She has a small satchel thrown over her shoulder. Her dark pants are a little too clean and nice for a journey through the forest, but the laced boots on her feet will do fine.

I clear my throat and look back into her face, "Morning. Ready?" She nods, glancing at the forest and fence before she emits a half-stifled yawn. Last night Peeta and Katniss participated in the Tribute Parade. She could have been awake thinking about it, _or maybe she's used to the privilege of sleeping in_.

"I enter over here by the Fringe tree. The fence is off, so we can crawl underneath," I explain as I lead her to the tree where the fence's bottom wire is highest from the ground. I pull up on the barbed wire to let her crawl beneath. We quickly walk into the veil of the trees, hiding ourselves from the view of the district.

"Where to?" Madge asks as she looks at the forest around her. I see the slight wonder in her eyes and try to ignore it. _I won't be bringing her back here_.

"We'll be heading about 2 miles to the South-East," I say as I lead her toward the place where I keep my bow. _If I won't be hunting, we'll at least need it for protection._

Madge's footfalls are softer than I would imagine a merchant's to be, _definitely quieter than Peeta._ I lead her to the overhang of rock where I leave my bow for safekeeping. I kneel down to retrieve the bow when we reach the rock outcropping and pull the slender weapon free from its hiding place with a practiced almost thoughtless motion. Though I haven't been hunting much since the turkey incident I have not lost the cadence of hunting day.

"That's bigger than the one I tried," Madge says as I stand and attach the quiver over my shoulder.

"Katniss- she tried to teach me," Madge says softly, "I'm not terrible, but I'm no Katniss."

"Catnip told me you were teaching her piano, I bet she was no Madge when it came to that," I can't suppress the smirk as I think about my best friend trying to play an instrument. Madge blushes and I realize I inadvertently paid her skills a compliment.

"This was Mr. Everdeen's bow," I explain as we begin to walk through the underbrush again.

Madge is mostly silent as we journey to the strawberry patch. We stop to check a few of my snares every so often. Her eyes examine me acutely as I work to reset the snares that have sprung since yesterday. I make quick work of them and don't dwell on the fact that if I hadn't been in a daze yesterday these traps wouldn't be empty.

"How did you learn to do such intricate work?" Madge asks after the fourth snare has been reset. I glance up at her from my kneeling position. She's leant against a birch tree, biting the corner of her thumbnail.

I look back down and finish up the snare, "Well, my dad used to bring me out here when I was a boy. He taught me a few things. The rest, I taught myself."

"They're really quite beautiful in their own way," Madge says as she kneels down to examine my finished snare further, "Almost gentle in their simplicity. They don't look as harmful as they really are." Something in my chest swells slightly as she admires the very thing that is my only source of creativity.

"The strawberry patch is just around the next ridge," I say hoarsely. We both rise and avoid looking into each other's eyes.

The strawberry patch is in what I think might have once been a field, just beyond the ridge of a hill. I found the remnants of a cement cellar a few hundred yards away several years ago just after we discovered this place. I imagine that before the districts were formed, there were people who farmed fresh fruits and vegetables. Trees and bushes have grown up around and throughout the patch. Katniss and I fashioned nets and snares around the best portions of berries to prevent animals from stealing our harvest. Madge inhales a breath when she finally sees the strawberries come into view. She smiles widely and quickens her pace, which makes me release a short laugh.

"It's beautiful. Much bigger than I imagined, no wonder you and Katniss have so much to sell," Madge says, dipping down to examine the closest berries. She fiddles with our net system, looking at the braided weave.

"You made this too didn't you?" She asks, smiling at me as she runs her thumb over the weave.

"Yeah, _that_ I learned from my mother," I let myself smile back at her.

It feels good, a remedy to mend the edges of the hole in my heart. I try to squash the feeling as it rises; it's too similar to the one Madge's gentle beauty enticed before. Calming, but forbidden. _This time I won't let myself lose my head_. I'm trying not to need her, trying not to owe her. _I'll consider this day part of my debt for the medicine and after this; we won't rely on each other again._

"So how do you know which berries are ripe?" Madge inquires. I pull the lidded buckets from my hunting bag and hand her one.

"The season peaks in early June, because it's always around reaping time. Catnip and I learned quickly that rain and heat are terrible for keeping them fresh. You know they are ripe when they are completely red. They're best if picked in the morning, so now is a good time," I tell her as I begin removing the netting on the nearest part of the patch. Madge helps me lift it up from the thick green leaves.

"These have grown better than last year, come here I'll show you how to pick them," I motion her over as I bend down beside the first plant. I delve my hands between the leaves showing her rather than telling her that you need to look under every leaf for the berries. Some are hidden well. Madge lowers herself into the dirt beside me and leans in for her first lesson of the day.

I choose a big, deeply red berry and grasp the stem. With one gentle twisting pull, the berry slides into my hand. "Don't grasp too high or low on the stem, you want it about a half inch or so above the berry. Don't yank, just twist and pull. It will roll right into your palm," I explain the action as I show her that you can complete the rolling motion three or four times to fill your palms with berries.

Madge bites her lip as she makes her first attempt. Her hands are much smaller than mine, so she can only fit three berries at a time. She clumsily tries to move them around in her palms before she gives up and places the handful in her bucket. My hands and eyes have practiced finding ripe berries so often that my bucket quickly begins to fill. We make our way through the row, silently working.

"Only fill the bucket halfway, otherwise the lower berries will be squished and bruise…and don't pack them in, just lay them in gently." Madge nods at every suggestion and trick.

"Are you always so efficient?" Madge giggles when I grab my second bucket to fill. I smirk and glance at her over my shoulder. The rising morning sun has spread over the treetops and her golden hair is beginning to glisten.

"Yes," I admit and continue my work. She emits another little laugh.

"Um Gale?" I close my eyes for a moment, smirking again. _Of course she wants to be chitty chatty now_. "Hmm?" I grunt, filling my palms.

"Is it alright if I eat a few?" She asks timidly. I roll my eyes, _of course she can't resist. _It's only been fifteen minutes and she already wants to start consuming the haul. _We haven't even finished picking yet._

"Knock yourself out, but if you start eating more than you're picking then you'll be asking for it," I warn. I hear her giggle once more and that tell-tale clenching swoop appears in my stomach. _She needs to stop being such a girl, it's getting to me_.

"What exactly will I be asking for?" She asks after a minute of sweet silence. I drop the strawberry handfuls gently into my bucket and swivel on my knee to fix her with a mock glare. She smirks before biting into a fat berry.

She has the audacity to look as though that berry is the best thing she has ever tasted. She closes her eyes and chews it around before swallowing it back with another generous smile. "I thought we weren't playing the suggestive question game anymore?" I ask her. That pulls the smile right off her pretty face. A pink tinge immediately spreads across her cheeks. She quickly turns back to the strawberry bush she is working on and changes the topic.

"Do you think that our training prep really helped Katniss and Peeta this time around? I stayed up thinking about it most of the night." She mechanically moves about, not looking in my direction again.

"I did all I could to show them every snare. Doing the best we could, that was all we could offer Madge," I assure her, turning to work on my own portion.

"I think I was more worried that you were going to cause Haymitch to have a heart attack than anything," Madge jokes, referring to the numerous times that the old drunk nearly bit it from exercising. I have to give him credit, Haymitch tried for Katniss' sake. He tried to take Peeta's place, to volunteer. Fate had other plans.

"I hope that Haymitch stays sober for them," Madge says quietly.

"He will, I have a_ feeling_ he is part of the rebellion that Katniss talked about." Just speaking the word ignites a fire inside me.

"I _know_ he is," she says, quick and certain. I drop my hands to my knees and swivel toward her again.

"What do you mean, you _know_ he is?" _Perhaps the old man was hiding something all along._ Instantly I am filled with intense interest in what Madge has to say.

"When I used to bring the paper, so that they could look at the other Victor's stats, I caught him writing down information and symbols," she smooths her hands over her pants and absently eats another strawberry as she explains, "I examined the papers more thoroughly when he wasn't around. There were little mockingjay symbols in some of the articles. It was a code, messages from supporters in the Capitol."

"What!" I hiss, leaning closer to her, "What did the messages say? Why didn't you tell Katniss and Peeta? I can't believe you kept that a secret!" Madge looks apologetic for a moment, obviously taken back by my quick anger and judgment. She starts to bite her damned nails again, eyeing me warily.

"It wasn't like that Gale! The messages weren't specific to Haymitch, they were meant for any sympathizer in the Capitol or officials in the districts. Some of it I already knew from my father's newsport," Madge quickly tries to explain away her discretion, "Though the newsport is the Capitol's version of uprising events." She begins to wring her hands again. I'm quickly beginning to realize that it's a sign of nervousness, just like the nail biting. She has too many signs that would give her away if she attempted to lie to someone.

"What did they say then?" I ask her evenly. I feel my own hands balling into fists at the thought of information on the uprising. In the mines there are plenty of people who have ideas about ways to start something here. _If they only knew that there was a way to get in contact with other districts._

"A lot of the time it was statistics. They use their symbols to mark off phrases and numbers. Things like _District 8, victory – 5,000 strong_ and _100 supporters in the Capitol – growing by the day_. Just brief things Gale, I didn't keep it from Peeta and Katniss to harm their chances in any way," Madge is sincere in her words. Her eyes plead with me to calm down.

"Peeta and Katniss just need to survive, they don't need to worry about anything other than survival," Madge says softly. I can see the thin veil of her emotions readying to reveal how torn and broken she already is. If one of them doesn't survive, she will crumble alongside whoever is left behind.

* * *

><p>For the next half hour, Madge and I don't speak to each other. We just pick strawberries, filling enough of the lidded containers to make a hefty number of trades. When the sun has risen halfway through the sky I begin to pack the lidded buckets into my game bag. Madge dusts the dirt from her knees and pulls out a thermos to drink. She wipes the lip and tilts the bottle toward me in offering. I take it and greedily swallow two gulps of the tea mixture.<p>

We walk the two miles back to the fence in complete silence. Madge halts ahead of me as we near the fence. She turns to me with a look of complete horror written on her face. Just as I'm about to ask her what the hell is the matter, I hear it, the buzz of electricity. I drop my bag into the grass and quickly head toward the fence. Sure enough, it's electrified.

"Fuck," I exhale.

"What do we do now?" There is an edge of panic in her voice. There will be a mandatory viewing in two days when the training is over and the games begin. If we are still out here, the Peacekeepers will come looking for us. We'll be hung and our families will be punished.

"All we can do is wait," I try to sound calm. This has happened to me before and the fence has always been turned off. _Yet, this time has different circumstances_. There are uprisings in other districts, the games are about to start, and we have a new head peacekeeper who already almost killed me before.

"If it doesn't go off…" Madge's voice loses steam as I pull her back into the coverage of the forest. She locks her eyes onto mine. The watery depths are tormented with fear. _She knows what will happen_. Because I don't know what else to do and I don't think I will be able to handle her tears, I press forward and envelope her in my arms. Her thin frame is quivering. So, I squeeze her closer to my chest, pressing my palm against the back of her head. She lets out a few shaky breaths, but no tears come.

I pull back, placing my palms on either side of her soft face, "We are going to be fine Madge. We'll just wait it out. Let's get something to eat. We'll come back and try again."

I lead her to the hidden rock where Katniss and I would meet up. Madge slides into the crevice of the rock, adjusting herself before scanning the surroundings. I nestle in beside her and pull one of the strawberry containers out of my bag. Madge's eyebrows furrow together when I open the lid and pull out a berry.

"I thought those were to sell?" She notes as I bite into the juice-filled flesh of the ripe berry. I swing my arm over, offering the bucket to her.

"If the berries stay in the heat for long they'll mold by tomorrow," I say after I swallow.

"Hopefully tomorrow will be spent_ inside_ the district," Madge muses as she bites into a particularly juicy strawberry.

* * *

><p>After several hours of on and off conversation, Madge and I trudge back to the fence and find the situation hasn't changed. Madge leans against a tree and presses her palms over her anguished face, like she can somehow hold in the tears by force.<p>

"We are going to be hung," she wails. I kick a stone roughly before I walk over to her. I place my hands on her shaking shoulders, causing her to look up at me.

"We are not going to die Madge, if it isn't on by the mandatory viewing then we are going to run. We'll run off and never look back," I emphasize my point by squeezing her shoulders. The words calm my inner fear and I hope that they help her just as much.

"You wouldn't leave me here even though I would be a burden?" She asks as a tear slides down the slope of her cheek and drips off her jaw.

I shake my head, "No, I would never leave you here to die." Something flashes in her eyes. Maybe she is remembering how she wouldn't let me die either. She must know that after she brought that morphling I couldn't look at her the same way again, she was always on my mind. I couldn't stop feeling like I owed her and needed her.

* * *

><p>We retreat into the woods and travel to a stream where Katniss and I trap muskrats in the Spring. It will be best to make a camp along the stream where the land is flat and the trees are thicker. Madge sits on the edge of the water, while I gather wood for a fire. She seems lost in a daze, staring at the ebb and flow of the stream. I pile the wood for my return. It will be best to light it at dusk. The smoke will be veiled by the sunset. Flames would be too bright at night, so I will have to cook our meal before it gets dark.<p>

I'll need to catch something to tide us over for the night; hopefully a fat rabbit will be living around here somewhere. A lot of animals live near this water source, so the game should be plentiful. I leave Madge by the water and tell her if she hears a hovercraft to seek cover under the bushes. She nods in understanding, but doesn't tear her eyes away from the stream. She thinks we are going to die and nothing I say will stop her from dwelling on it.

I travel to my closest snare line, hoping that I've gotten a rabbit or some other small game. I haven't been gone for long when I hear Madge scream. The sheer panic in her voice makes me pump my legs faster as I run back to our camp. Her scream is silenced quickly. My chest tightens at the thought that she's been found by a Peacekeeper or worse, a bear.

I set my bow with an arrow as I round the tree line and Madge comes into view. She's pressed up against the thick trunk of an Oak tree, her eyes wide with shock and fear. A female bobcat circles her, readying to attack. I quickly aim for the head and release an arrow, unsheathing a second as the giant cat falls forward. I knock the second arrow, but the cat doesn't get back up.

"You alright?" Madge doesn't answer; she shakily slides down the trunk of the tree, hugging it tightly. She must be in shock, because her hands spread over her body checking to see if her limbs are real. I drop down beside her, looking for any injuries.

"Madge, are you alright? Did you get bit or scratched?" This time she looks up into my face, her expression crumbling in an instant. She begins to profusely cry. All the emotions of the day catching up with her.

"You're okay, you're fine," I say as I drop the bow and let her latch around me.

"On the bright side, we've got more than enough for dinner now," I tell her. She cries harder, but I think I hear a laugh escape. It takes some time, but eventually she calms down and looks at her assailant.

"I think I frightened it, it was just coming for a drink," Madge says as she slowly disentangles herself from me.

I pull my arrow from the head and clean it in the water before placing it back in my sheath. Madge cups a handful of water and splashes it on her face. She retrieves her bag and pulls out the thermos of tea. She silently shows me that she has a small loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. She must have packed it for a snack. I'm grateful. We both drink from the thermos before I pull out my knife and drag the bobcat into the underbrush. Madge and I take the animal into a ravine where I gut it and skin it. She doesn't squirm. I dump the remaining strawberries from our lunch into the other containers and Madge helps me put meat into the emptied bucket. We leave much of it behind, because we simply don't have the ability to carry it and it will go bad in the heat.

"We'll need a new campsite; wild dogs will be here soon to eat the carcass," I explain to Madge as we begin to walk back to the stream. After we wash our hands in the water I take her several miles into the forest to the cabin by the lake. It pains my heart to bring her to Katniss' place, but we'll be safer in the cement walls and our fire will be shielded from view.

Madge has calmed considerably and her inquisitive side returns. She examines the building and surroundings, while I build a fire in the hearth and start to cook the meat. She returns when the meat is almost done. She pulls out her bread and thermos, setting them on the cloth that she places by the hearth. She washes my bloodied bucket in the lake and we fill it with the cooked meat. We share our meal evenly; Madge tries to let me take more meat at first, reasoning that I am bigger and need more. I don't allow it though.

We sit warming ourselves by the fire when the night air begins to cool us. Madge's skin and hair glow in the golden light. I catch her watching me once in a while, but she always looks away. A thousand times my brain formulates ways to ask her why she saved me months ago. My lips never form the words though.

Instead I settle on teasing her, "How is the search going for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"

Madge looks up, smiling softly as she fiddles with the lace on her boot. "There is still a job opening in that department. Why, are you willing to submit an application?" She folds her arms around her crossed legs.

"I'm overqualified," I say seriously, hiding my smirk. She leans over and swats my arm hard, "Ow, not necessary!" We both laugh.

"I hope that Haymitch is letting Peeta and Katniss have a break from training," Madge says softly as we commence staring into the fire again.

"Haymitch was in love with my aunt you know," Madge sighs. I throw another branch onto the fire.

"Oh? What happened?" I ask as I settle back down beside her. Madge leans her head on her knees.

"She died in the 50th Hunger Games. They partnered up like Katniss and Peeta. When they finally split up she was killed by a pack of mutts," Madge's hollow voice informs me. I knew that Haymitch's games were controversial. They never play them on Capitol re-runs. No one has ever said how he won. People don't like to talk about it.

"He held her as she died. He saved her mockingjay pin for my mother. They were twins, two parts of a whole. Mother has never been the same, according to Haymitch anyway," Madge sits up, placing her elbows on her knees. I knew the pin belonged to Madge when I saw Katniss wearing it last year, but I never knew it belonged to a girl who died in the games.

"When I gave it to her, I had hoped that Haymitch would see it and be inclined to help Katniss out of care for Maysilee."

Madge inadvertently may have caused the action that made Katniss the symbol of a rebellion and here she is talking about it like it's the weather. Over the past year, this girl has defied all my views about her with one action or sentence. She never seems fazed by the way I act toward her. _It's like she's from another world_.

"Haymitch has been waiting for something, I wonder what he is really part of," Madge looks over at me briefly.

"I wonder what it is that he hasn't told any of us, what it is he is looking for," I reply.

"We should go to sleep," I finally say. She nods in agreement and unfolds her limbs.

Madge and I use her bag as a pillow and press ourselves close together for warmth. I let her wrap her small arm around my waist and nestle her face in the crook of my neck. Nothing about our arrangement seems strange and I wonder when I began to trust this girl so completely.

* * *

><p>I wake up with Madge draped over my waist and her long curly hair tickling my arms. Her hair smells like the lavender soap that my mother uses on the merchant's clothes. I try not to wake her as I attempt to roll out from under her, but she stirs and pulls herself away. Her cheeks stain pink as she pulls her risen shirt down.<p>

We eat strawberries and the leftover bread for breakfast before we douse the ashes in the hearth with a bucket of water. On the way back to the fence we check snares and find two rabbits. Madge takes a bucket of strawberries so that I can fit the animals into my packed hunting bag.

We begin to discuss what we will do if the fence is still on by sundown. Madge is angry about running away, now that she has had time to think about it. She doesn't want to leave her parents to be punished. She brings up my siblings to spite me. We stand on the small path and argue senselessly for a few minutes.

"Either way we are going to die Gale, whether they find us just outside the fence or ten miles from here. They'll find us!" Madge throws her hands up in the air as she tries to contain her raised voice.

"I won't let you die that easy Madge. We could make it out there," I insist. She shakes her head and laughs. A few birds take flight a couple yards up in a nearby tree.

"You could make it._ I_ will just get _you _killed," she is serious when she says it.

She walks past me angrily, accidently bumping her shoulder into mine as she tries to go around me on the small path. I grip my hands into fists as I watch her disappearing into the trees, "You couldn't just let me die before," I yell.

I hear her halt a few feet down the path, so I continue, "Why did you do it? Why did you bring me morphling?" Everything is silent as I push a branch aside and stare at her rigid back. Slowly she turns to face me, her expression is something unreadable.

"I didn't think Katniss would tell you about that," she says simply, her face turning placid. I glance down when her hands start to fidget in the flannel shirt.

"It was Prim that told me, she wanted to make sure I expressed my _gratitude_," I step closer to her as I speak, until we're only a foot apart. Even as her hands spread nervous circles across the flannel, she doesn't pull her eyes away from mine.

"The truth is that I was being selfish," she begins. Her teeth dig into the tender flesh of her bottom lip. A flash of an image clouds my vision, a vivid memory of my own teeth biting into that same soft flesh.

"I couldn't bear to lose you to the Capitol like I lost Peeta and Katniss. Even if my companionship means nothing to you…you are the only _friend_ I have, the only person I talk to outside of them and my family," she throws her hands up in the space between our chests, shrugging her shoulders as she gestures at us. I'm not sure what she is trying to say, maybe she's trying to fill in the blanks of what she really means.

"I guess I just need you," she lets the words seep out like a sigh, "to help me forget, for a little while. And if you were dead then who would share the pain with me?"

If she has anything else to say, she doesn't get the opportunity to say it. I am selfish too and right now I have no words to explain the strange friendship that we have or how my heart feels lighter when she is around. My hands have always been more creative and expressive than my words, so I tangle one hand in her hair and the other around her back.

I pull her flush against me and kiss her reverently, like a third _first _kiss. I feel her melt into me this time, all tender flesh and overwhelming warmth. She gasps into my mouth as I pull her closer, lifting her until there isn't a molecule of space between us. At some point she gets frustrated with my control of the slow, sensuous pace. She digs her fingers into my hair, forcing a roughness into the kiss that lights the little flame in my chest. It quickly blows into an inferno that is all things Madge.

Somehow she manages to untangle herself from my limbs and put a breath of air between us. Slowly she steps away, trailing her hands down my arms as she goes. As our fingertips finally separate she says, "You can't make a habit out of kissing me when you don't know what to say." I bark out a laugh and spread my left hand across the back of my neck.

"If we are going to be selfish and keep each other around, you have to tell me what I am to you," she half-smiles, but her eyes yield to a torn emotion.

"You're the closest thing I have to a friend outside my family and Catnip," I say honestly.

"Then stay with me. We'll be better off together," she steps closer again. This time I see that the unreadable expression from earlier, is longing. Whatever she is longing for, friendship, love…I can at least try to be a there for her. I have a weakness for people in pain and I have a feeling that she does too.

"Are you willing to put up with my unreciprocated love for another girl, my terrible personality, and inconsistent friendship?" I ask her as I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yes. Are you willing to play the part of tall, dark and handsome third best friend? Those are really the only qualifications for the job." I smirk and press a kiss to her forehead.

"If we live long enough, then I would be honored to be the man for the job. I'll even give you a bonus lesson or two on the best illegal activities to do with friends. This is lesson one by the way, take your friend into a forbidden forest to steal food for the poor," I release a breath of a laugh. _Oh the many opportunities I could have to corrupt the Mayor's daughter, stealing, illegal bartering, kissing…_

Madge places her arms around me, "It's settled then. We will be whatever we are to each other no questions asked, no rules, and no regulations. Just two people helping each other forget."

I don't think I have ever been through so many different emotions over a person in one day, but Madge Undersee has hit nearly every possible sensation. She's quirky and frustrating, a merchant and an unattainable forbidden fruit. And if we aren't hanged in the next day or too, then I will likely one day comfortably call her _friend._

* * *

><p>It is nearly dark when the fence finally turns off. Madge and I slip from the forest confines and quickly make our way through the district. We don't speak, there are no words left to say. We go back to being the quiet people who just need each other's presence for the reassurance that we are actually alive. I leave her at her house and run home to change into fresh clothes for the mandatory viewing.<p>

My mother slaps my face, and then hugs me when I come through the door. I quickly explain that the fence was on for two days before I change. My mother was terrified that I wouldn't make it. I see the fear in her grey eyes. She calmly dresses Posy for the viewing and doesn't speak on the incident.

My family walks to the square together. Posy holds my hand as my brothers lead the group. We find Madge in the square, sitting by herself. She doesn't object when I sit down beside her. We made it back just in time. The viewing starts only ten minutes after I join Madge. She's wearing a light blue dress that reminds me of Katniss reaping. I watch her face as the screen lights up with Ceasar Flickerman's pearly white smile and garish attire. My heart begins to beat wildly as the Victors join the stage.

My breath pauses when I see Katniss tentatively walk into the camera's view. The dress isn't what I thought it would be. It's still flashy, Capitol attire, but it is so much more. It's a bridal gown. The irony is bitter, that it serves as her burial shroud. The bright white fabric settles eerily against her skin, her face seeming as pale as snow. Her slate grey eyes shine in the blinding lights, reflecting the glow a thousand times in her wide dejected lenses. It is a vision of innocence on so many levels that it makes me feel light headed.

I feel Madge eyeing me, trying to gauge my reaction. I turn toward her. We stare at each other seeing a myriad of things, as Ceasar Flickerman begins to interview the first Victor. I finally allow myself to blink as I face the screen again. I grab Madge's hand and tightly lace our fingers together. After each Victor has had their say, I give Madge's small hand a squeeze. The Victors rile up the crowd one by one, stirring the hornet's nest of onlookers.

"Listen to them," Madge murmurs, "They're positively outraged…this could be it, the thing that Haymitch wanted."

"If by some divine act they live through this, the uprising will explode with power," I quickly whisper back.

This time around, Katniss seems more on edge. She plays her part willingly, but her eyes give way to a broken heart. When Katniss' dress alights, she burns darker than any true flame. She transforms in a blur of smoke and fire. As the thick smoke dissipates, Katniss the mockingjay, stands silent and proud in the ashes. Cinna's creation is like a slap in the Capitol's already mangled face. Katniss' buzzer is virtually drowned out by the cheers of District 12 citizens.

I half expect it when Peeta finally drops his second interview bombshell. This time I don't run. Instead my hand stays bound to Madge, whose fingers are too soft to have ever worked a day in her life.

She slowly rubs her thumb over the hard calloused edge of my palm and whispers, "He'll protect her."


	3. Nothing left

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing this story. I'm so happy that people stuck with it after all this time. This was intended to be a final chapter, but its length was triple the size of the other chapters, so I decided to split it into two parts. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Are you Gale's friend?" Posy Hawthorne's bright eyes shine in the dirt, blood, and ash smeared on her tiny features. She is perched on a fallen log near the lake, left to her own devices as her brothers and mother make themselves useful. I approach her slowly, sitting down on the opposite end of the log.<p>

"I think so," I murmur as I stare past her at the man in question, no longer a boy, _not here anyway_. He is setting a group of people up with a fishing net, explaining how to work it as he glides it through the water in a fluid motion.

"What's your name?" She asks pleasantly. She seems cheerful for a kid who has just been through the most terrifying night of her young life.

"Madge," I say softly, "I'm Madge Undersee and what's your name?" I've known who she is from the moment she was born. I know most everyone in the district. I've got a lot of time to watch people. When you do the amount of people watching that I do, you start to memorize them and imagine what their lives hold.

"I'm Posy!" She giggles and smiles brightly. I notice for the first time that she is wearing a nightdress. It was late when the broadcast cut out, she was probably in bed.

"My mommy's hurt and Gale says I have to stay where he can see me," Posy's little boot kicks a rock, unsettling the dirt around it. The small cloud of dust floats up and dissipates quickly.

"Yeah, you should probably listen to him," I tell her absently as my eyes seek out her brother again. He looks so old all of a sudden, covered in blood and ash. I watch some of it drip down his wet forearms every time he glides the net in the water.

"That's what mommy says. She says he's the boss when she's not around," Posy twists the toe of her boot in the dirt before she reaches down to pick a dandelion from beside the log. The yellow bulbous flower presents a startling contrast against her dirtied skin. _How could something so colorful still exist in this wasteland of charred earth?_ It fills me with an emotion that clenches the air in my throat.

"Is Gale the boss when your mommy is not around too?" She asks as she holds the bright flower out for me. My fingers shake as I take the precious object from her small hand. She smiles sweetly as I bring it closer to my body, gently cradling the weed in my palms. _Peeta used to make sugar cookies with dandelions painted on them_.

I don't have parents anymore and my friends are likely dead or soon will be at the hands of the Capitol. Posy looks at me expectantly, waiting for my answer in regards to her older brother. "No Posy, he's my friend. The only one I have left," I finally manage to answer her. I try to manage a smile, but it feels false on my lips. My cheeks ache, _probably from all the screaming_.

She scoots closer to me on the log, gently resting her dark head on my shoulder as she declares, "I'll be your friend." I feel tears start to leak down my cheeks as she continues to babble on about friendship and things she likes to do. How her mommy is going to get 'all better' and Gale is going to kiss her goodnight because he forgot to last night when the fire came.

With Posy pressed against my side, I allow myself to think of my mother and father. Of Rhoda, our housemaid. My room, our garden, the piano. I let myself envision it all because I know that her innocent heart won't hold it against me when I cry.

* * *

><p>For several hours I allow myself to watch the people who bustle about making makeshift shelters and preparing fires for food. Posy and I play a game with the small rocks we find near the log. We draw a little square with a stick and try to throw our rocks inside the jagged lines. Posy is much better at our game. She laughs often, which keeps me distracted from the emotions that are still bubbling just under the surface.<p>

I start to become more aware of Posy's state. I convince her to let me clean her up a bit. _It's the least I can do_. I ripped my leggings when I ran through the burning rubble of the Seam last night, so I don't mind ripping a bit more of the fabric off to fashion it into a makeshift washcloth. I bring Posy to the edge of the lake and sit her on a flat rock. I kneel in the wet sand to dip my shred of cloth in the water.

"Let's clean up your face Posy, so your mommy can see your pretty smile when you go visit her later," I smile at her reassuringly. I've learned from Posy that her mother's leg was badly burned yesterday when something fell on her. Posy got teary when she described it. I marvel at how composed she is for a child of five. In another time, maybe she wouldn't have been.

I run the wet cloth across Posy's cheeks, neck, and hands. I wonder briefly if the blood covering her cheeks is from her mother. Posy winces as I press my fingers into a particularly caked on bit of grime. "Oh there you are!" I tease as her tanned skin becomes clearer under the vigorous scrubbing.

"Show me a good smile now," I say jokingly. She beams at me and something about her smile reminds me of Gale.

I let her put her hands in the water when I try to scrub more of the grime off of her little fingernails. I notice the ash and dirt settled on my own pale skin as Posy becomes cleaner. "Ewwy! You're dirty too!" Posy points at the grime on my forearms.

"Oh no. Really?" I feign shock. "Yes, there is coal dust everywhere!" Posy giggles.

I don't want to tell her that these ashes are made of our district, of our people. I'm reminded of a saying father used to use when there was a death at the mines or an outbreak of deadly sickness in the district, _ashes to ashes and dust to dust_.

I run the cloth between my hands under the surface of the water, trying to ring out some of the dirt. Then I start to glide the cloth across my forearms and up the expanse of ash covered skin. Posy points out dirty spots as I work. I splash my face in the water and try to scrub at things I can't see. Eventually, Posy declares me clean. I jump when someone clears their throat behind me.

Posy runs to hug Gale the moment she notices him. He nods at me solemnly as he presses her close to his body for a hug. "I see that Posy is playing 'clean the miner' with you. She always tries to help me wash up before dinner after work," Gale says. His voice is filled with a weary tone.

"Yeah, she said I was 'ewwy'," I explain as I stand up to face him. I see that he looks drained, _more than usual. _

"How's your mother?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say. He blinks at the question for a moment, probably wondering how I know that she was hurt.

"She's fine. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim saw to her injuries first when they set up their medical ward," he looks down at Posy who is fiddling with the game bag he has slung over his shoulder.

"Squirt, why don't you go play with Vick? He's done helping Prim find herbs," Gale runs a hand over his sister's head of dark hair before he points toward the tree-line where Vick is tossing something back and forth with another boy from the Seam. Posy looks conflicted as her head bobbles between me and the boys, weighing the alternatives.

I smile at her softly and press a hand into her shoulder to shoo her toward the playmates, "Go on honey, I'm fine." I tell her honestly. Posy starts to head toward the trees before she stops and looks over her shoulder, deciding something. I gasp with surprise when she runs back and squeezes my waist tightly. Unsure what to do, I just pat her head and bid her to have a nice time.

"Looks like you've made a new friend," Gale smirks.

"She is real sweet. You did a nice job with her," I say as I sit back down on the log by the lake. Suddenly I realize how silly that sounded, "I mean your mother did a nice job with her." I try to cover myself and end up fumbling over my words.

Gale actually releases a short laugh as he takes a seat beside me, "No, you're right. I did a lot of the work too. It was hard on all of us when Dad died. She never really got to know him." We both sit in silence for a few beats of time.

"Thanks for keeping her company," he says finally.

I can feel him watching me. I can almost see it from the corner of my eye, but I continue to stare out across the expanse of placid water in front of us._ It's not fair that something can be this still and calm after the atrocities we witnessed last night._

"Are you alright?" Gale asks. His voice breaks the silence that settles around us.

I'm not sure if I want to honestly answer him, but I do eventually "I'm just starting to find the bits of my sanity that disappeared on the way here. I think I've almost pieced myself back together now. Posy helped." I see Gale nodding at my words in my periphery.

Everything that has happened in the last 24 hours has been a blur of horror. At the moment the power went out I was in the square staring at the large central screen. As Katniss raised her bow at the sky I could see the lightning flash in her eyes. After she released the arrow the screens went black.

Then it seemed as though the world had turned to blackness. Every light extinguished and the low hum of the generators at the mine ceased. The square was silent and the steady beat of my own heart drummed in my ears. Then I heard the Peacekeepers hauling themselves toward the train station, not even bothering to open fire on those of us who remained in their path. I watched their white uniforms shimmer in the light of the moon. Something in my head screamed for me to run.

I was halfway to my house, when the hoverplanes appeared above. The first bomb decimated my parent's home. After that, my memory becomes fuzzy and filled with terrible sounds, like a powerful nightmare. I remember running through the Seam on the way to the meadow. I could see a mass of bodies pushing toward the fence. It was all I could do to blindly run after them in the flames and smoke. I fell and ripped my pant-leg on something metal and hot, but it didn't hurt. I ran and ran through the trees, cutting my hands on branches. People were screaming all around me, but I just kept running. When I finally stopped I was standing in the middle of the forest with blackened people crying all around me. _That's when I realized that the nightmare was real. _

After the bombing ceased, hundreds of us converged on the lake. I later learned that people had followed Gale here. He shepherded his flock, like he was some sort of holy man, leading his people to the great beyond. He had meager supplies to help our group of survivors find the means to eat, but he made surprisingly quick work of ordering people about. All I could do was helplessly watch the district in the distance and cry as everything I ever knew burned up in the flames.

And now here I am, sitting with the only person I have left in the world, trying to find the words to tell him that I'll _never_ be alright.

* * *

><p>"Miss? Your name and any vocational skills you can contribute." I blink as the pale man in the grey uniform asks me again for my statistics. <em>How did we get here?<em> When the hovercraft arrived to take us away from the barren wasteland of our district, I was just as shocked as anyone else.

Everything has been quick and organized since the moment we all saw the foreign machine landing beside the water. We were told that we had the right to become citizens of the rebel government in exchange for food, shelter, and clothing. There wasn't a person who did not accept. We were given food and water as they herded us into the great vessel and declared us refugees. On the ride to District 13 I finally allowed myself to close my eyes and have a dreamless sleep. The nap was shorter than my body needed, but it was enough to get me by, _enough to settle my racing heart_. For the first time in 3 days, I felt safe.

When we arrived in the hangar we were given numbers and told to wait in a holding area until our number was called. I had allowed myself to truly examine the other survivors for the first time as we waited. There were very few blonde heads in the crowd, few enough to count them on my fingers and toes.

"Miss?" The man asks with an air of annoyance. His pale skin is even lighter under these bright white lights. He looks fairly young, mid-twenties or so. I examine his mousy brown hair and strangely pale eyes before I find myself again.

I blink several times and clear my throat, "My name is Margaret Undersee. I was the mayor's daughter. I don't think I have many vocational skills." I'm honest with him. The man gives me a strange look before he pulls a form out and presents it to me.

"Fill this out, maybe it will help determine the skills you may have strengths and weaknesses in. It will help us place you. Do you have any family members that you would prefer to bunk with?" He asks as I take the form and pencil from him. _Do I have anyone I would prefer to bunk with? Prefer? _I don't have the luxury of choosing between family members._ Does anyone have that choice?_

"No sir, I don't have anyone," I say simply. The man grimaces and directs me toward a seat so that I can fill out the paperwork.

The questions are simple enough. District 13's citizens are all considered part of the military force. Jobs are broken down into categories based on skill set and interest. There are opportunities to serve the rebellion in the army; and then there are vocations involving things like food production and distribution, weapons management, education, medicine, and repair. I fill in the bubbles next to the skills and personality characteristics that I think I reasonably possess.

When I have finished I go back to the mousy man and present him with my form. He sends it through a machine that computes potential vocations and presents me with my room and vocational assignment. I'm grouped with other teenagers from school who no longer have parents or guardians, but are considered old enough to serve as working citizens. Anyone over 14 can speak for themselves here.

"Oh, Hi Madge," Leevy Boniver greets me when I stand a few paces behind her, waiting for an escort to lead our small group of orphans to our new homes. I nod a hello and scan the faces of the others around us. Leevy and I have very few companions that were in our age bracket at school. I form a small smile for her before I look down at the vocational assignment I've been given.

"Huh," I say as the words _Crop Harvester_ filter through my fuzzy brain. Leevy leans forward to examine my assignment over my shoulder. She still smells likes the tangy ashes of our dead district. _How many burned bodies of ash did we inhale? How many of them cover us still?_

"That sounds decent enough; I'm going to be working textiles. My mother was a seamstress," Leevy explains. Her younger brother Damon is seated on the floor near the wall. Leevy follows my line of site to him. I can't quite remember how old he is, but it can't be older than ten.

"I requested that I be his guardian," she says simply. I hope for her sake, that they allow her that small comfort.

* * *

><p>My compartment mates end up being Delly Cartwright and Leevy. Both of them lost their parents. They only have their younger brothers left. The boys have been placed in a room adjacent to ours with an older boy from the Seam, Erich Callaway. I didn't know him, but he seems nice enough. He's quiet. He promised Leevy he would look after the boys when they needed it. She had hugged him spontaneously and blushed for half an hour afterward.<p>

We begin to follow the scheduled routine of District 13. Every day we have our daily assignments stamped in ink on our arms. Leevy spends her days repairing and making uniforms. Delly works in the nursery caring for orphaned children.

For a few weeks it is a strangely new existence. I can tell that all the District 12 refugees feel like we're trapped in a mine of endless elevators and shafts, but somehow everyone makes it by. Everyone is used to hunger, so the food rations aren't terrible. No one is used to school actually being useful. The lessons are frightening at times, weapons and war-tactics dominant the schooling of the older "soldiers".

At night, Delly, Leevy, and I can barely contain our nightmares. More often than not we wake to one of us screaming, crying, or thrashing around. We do our best to comfort each other and in the morning, we pretend as though our smiles are real. In Delly's case they may be, she was always the most approachable person in the district.

* * *

><p>Harvesting the genetically altered plants from the massive gardens turns out to be something that I quite enjoy. The labor is predictable and fluid; it keeps my mind from drifting toward dark places filled with screams and flames. I can hum piano tunes as I work and none of the other harvesters ever seem to mind, <em>at least not yet<em>.

A few times I even catch myself thinking of the day with Gale in the woods. How he had moved so effortlessly between the plants, gently guiding the precious berries into his palms. His hands were artists that day, weaving intricate snares like he was spinning golden thread for a tapestry. They are the most dangerous and beautiful part of him. It is possible to think about those practiced hands for hours. If I allow myself to submerge in it, I can still feel them smoothly caressing down my back.

"Soldier Margaret Undersee?" A man with a straight stern face and greying hair addresses me. He walks down the gangway a few rows over, an orders tablet in his hand. I suppress the flush my thoughts have brought on and tentatively look up at the man.

I drop the potatoes I am digging into my basket and rise to meet him, dusting the dirt on my gray pants. "Yes?" I ask, completely forgetting the new formality of greeting fellow soldiers by their rank. The man disdainfully clears his throat at my forgetfulness_. I suppose_ _eventually I'll learn_.

"You're wanted in the medical bay. Soldier Katniss Everdeen has requested to see you," he states as he checks the orders on his tablet.

"Yes sir, thank you _soldier_," I say as formally as possible, making sure to emphasize the most _important _part. The man huffs as he continues down the gangway to give a new order to someone else. I sigh and kneel down to lift my bucket of potatoes. I carry it to the conveyor belt that brings the vegetables for sorting.

Katniss was pulled from the arena just moments after she electrocuted the force field, causing a massive black-out. It was only after we had been in 13 for a few days that I learned Katniss was alive. Primrose told me when she spotted me at the meal hour. It was a moment of joy for me, soon followed by a pang of fear for Peeta; a fear that still grips my organs like a vise. My nightmares ever since have been plagued with dreams about Peeta being tortured, maimed, and killed.

This is the first that Katniss has summoned me since she woke up. The idea of seeing her again makes my heart race. _What kind of shell will she be without Peeta?_ I make my way up the gangway to the elevator and punch in the floor for the medical bay. I have never visited, but I made a point to memorize the floor number when it was provided at our orientation. My stomach swoops as the elevator begins to move. It reminds me of the lift we took into the mines during class field trips, which reminds me that I've wanted to puke during those moments for the last ten years.

The elevator emits a mechanical buzz as it stops on medical floor. I shakily step out and look for the doorway to the extended care unit. I find it easily enough and greet the receptionist with a hearty "Hello, I'm here to see Katniss Everdeen." The receptionist scowls as she points toward a door on the left. _I take it she's had a few interactions with Katniss and her sunny disposition_. I smirk at the receptionist and nod a thank you.

The access door to Unit 4 is closed, so I knock lightly. "Come in," Katniss intones.

I press the button that opens the door automatically and gingerly step into the room. Katniss is sitting up in the white clothed bed with a tray of food on her lap. We stare at each other in silence, examining the faces that have changed so much in such a short time. She looks terrible, thin and beaten. After a moment she lifts the tray of food off her lap and places it on the medical stand beside her. I step forward when she tries to get up from the bed, but she waves my hands away.

Instead she launches herself into my arms, pressing her thin body around me. I can hear the smile in her voice as she says my name, "Madge. It's so good to see you." I feel tears prickling my eyes. I hug her back, fiercely.

"It's good to see you too," I admit as she pulls away. We both smile tearfully at each other, returning to our old silent selves. We never had much to talk about, but we were good company. Katniss grips my hands in hers, squeezing once, twice, before she lets go and allows herself to fold back under her white covers.

"How are you getting on?" I ask as she points toward a chair pulled close to her bed. I take the seat and appraise my friend's tired face.

She closes her eyes for two heartbeats then answers me honestly, "Terrible at best." I release a short breath of a laugh and place my hands on the armrests of the cold solid chair. "What about you?" She asks turning her gray eyes toward me.

I sigh and look down at my dirt covered palms and gray uniform, "It's not like home, but I'm surviving. One day at a time." Katniss nods. We sit in silence thereafter, both caught in our own thoughts. I examine the strangely pristine white walls and floor. Katniss, examines the ceiling tiles.

"They said you _requested to see me_," I say airily, trying to imitate the formality of this new place. Katniss rolls her eyes, obviously not taken with the new customs.

"Prim and Gale told me you were here," she informs me, adjusting her back against the standard issue pillows, "You're one of the only friends I have ever had…I needed to check up on you. Make sure you were really alright." She admits it as though she thinks it's foolish.

"I'm glad," I say, leaning forward to take her left hand, "I wanted to check up on you too, but didn't know if I was allowed the honor." Katniss offers me one of her tell-tale smirks before she rolls her eyes. I give her hand a squeeze before letting go.

"Seeing me isn't an honor Madge," she says simply. I clear my throat and try to formulate the words to ask her about Peeta, but she beats me to the chase.

"I'm not free here. They want me to be their _Mockingjay_ – symbol of the rebellion," the words put a bitter expression on her face. "It would all be more suited to Peeta, if Haymitch hadn't left him to die." The venom in her voice is palpable.

"Katniss, I'm sure he didn't mean for it to happen," I try to assure her. She looks up at the ceiling, fighting tears as she shakes her head.

"Just like he didn't mean to leave us out of the loop?" Katniss asks, nearly glaring at me. "We didn't know anything going into that arena. We had no idea!" She is frighteningly close to appearing unstable and I find myself sitting back further in the chair.

Her voice drops down to a whisper as the words catch in her throat, "They'll torture him Madge, for information he doesn't have. Maybe kill him even." A single tear finally slides down her cheek. I reach forward to wipe it away, before it drips off her chin. Katniss closes her eyes, swallowing hard.

"They won't kill him. If they do that, they'll have nothing to use against you," I say it before I even realize that it is likely true. The longer the thought has left me, the more I feel that it _is_ true. Peeta is worth more to them as a tool against Katniss, then he is anything else. They'll likely use his beautiful words. _But how exactly will they use him to break her apart?_ The thought runs a chill up my spine.

"I hope you're right," Katniss says, "I hope it more than anything."

* * *

><p>"Madge! Sit with us!" Posy Hawthorne exclaims as Leevy and I walk through the dining hall at the meal hour. Tonight dinner appears to be an unappetizing bowl of leek soup with a roll and cup of milk. <em>The soup diversity is never ending here<em>.

I smile as we approach the long table that holds a number of people from the Seam. The Hawthornes are seated in the middle with a few spaces left around them. Hazelle attempts to pull Posy back into her seat as we approach. The little girl is beaming from ear to ear. I smile happily back at her. I haven't seen her much in the two weeks since the bombings, but Delly has kept me apprised of how well she is doing in the school day care system.

Leevy and I greet everyone with smiles and hellos. I sit down across from Posy, next to Gale. Posy's thin cheeks look fuller. She has definitely taken on some much needed weight. Somehow her cheeks even look rosy, despite the lack of sunlight.

"I never got to formally thank you for keeping Posy company back in 12," Hazelle Hawthorne says sweetly and I see where her children inherited the beautiful smiles.

"It was no trouble really, she was better company to me than I was to her," I tell her honestly. I dip my spoon into the soup and begin eating. Hazelle continues to smile at me and I catch her passing the look toward Gale beside me.

"Miss Madge, did you know I get to go to school!" Posy tells me excitedly as she eats chunks of her bread at a time. Her eyes dance with delight at the news.

"Oh Posy that sounds wonderful," I fill myself with as much happiness as I can for her, "What is your favorite part?" Posy places her hand over her mouth and looks as though she is considering the question intently.

"Playing with Miss Delly at _recreation_!" Posy finally decides. I smile and rip a piece of bread to dip into my soup. Even the children follow strict timetables where lessons, recreation, reflection, and homework all have a scheduled spot.

"Miss Delly is very nice, she tells me how you are doing all the time," I say. I feel Gale shift beside me, probably wondering why I care enough to enquire about his sister's school performance.

"Miss Delly lives with us," Leevy tells Posy conspiratorially, "We get to laugh with her all the time in our compartment." Posy looks excited and immediately turns to ask her mother if she can visit us during _reflection_ time soon. Hazelle agrees, but only if Posy continues to listen to her elders.

"So, where do you girls have vocational assignments?" Hazelle asks conversationally when the meal is almost finished.

"I work in textiles, I'm a seamstress," Leevy offers first. Her mother was a seamstress in the Seam and probably knew Hazelle well. Hazelle nods at Leevy's vocation, approving of the work. Katniss told me that Hazelle is working as a laundress here, just as she did in 12.

"I'm a crop harvester," I say before I dip the last bite of my bread in the soup dregs. Gale shifts uncomfortably beside me again. This time I chance a glance at him. Our eyes meet, tethered until he blinks and turns to Posy who has asked him a mundane question about his job.

I wonder briefly if he was thinking of our trip with the strawberries, really he couldn't have been thinking of anything else.

* * *

><p>It's been a month since the firebombings. Finally, Katniss' request to view the district was granted. She allowed Gale and I to come today, but refused our company when we tried to gear up to go out with her. Somewhere in my heart I'm grateful that I won't have to step foot in the place that has plagued me with nightmares, but a part of me needs to be here for Katniss.<p>

I focus on looking through the charred trees as we drop her in the meadow. The hovercraft touches down with the door facing a ridge of charred trees. Katniss slowly and rigidly exits down the little metal ramp, her boots landing heavily on each step.

When the trees were thick in past summers you could never tell that the meadow overlooks the district. With the branches bare and burned you can see through the tree-line completely. For the first time I see the remnants of District 12. The pit of worry that had settled in my stomach explodes the instant my brain registers that the desolate wasteland is all that remains of my home. Everything is covered in a thick layer of ash. The dark charred sticks that used to be trees look like phantoms reaching for the cloudless sky. The hot dry summer days have disturbed the ashes very little. It looks as it must have only days after the fires ceased.

My eyes follow Katniss as she pauses to stare down at something below her tread. When she doesn't look away for a few moments, I peer closer at the object. It's a skull. The remnants of a person that could have been me, who could be Rhoda or my father. After that, I close my eyes until the hovercraft lifts back into the air. We'll be protecting Katniss as she ventures through the district. All of the crafts are invisible as they hover in the sky over the mass graveyard that once was our home.

Katniss meanders through the remains of our district, pausing to look at bodies and burnt rubble. She is defiantly strong as she passes the still smoking mines and frighteningly weak as she begins to tread the path that leads to the Seam. She navigates the ash where the wooden houses of the Seam once stood. When she looks ready to have a mental break in her old home, Gale volunteers to join her.

Katniss refuses his aid and soldiers on, jaggedly walking toward the center of town. We watch her travel through the Merchant Quarter, pausing to look at Peeta's nonexistent bakery. I feel my chest tightening as she walks toward the mayoral mansion. What once was a vast looming structure has been reduced to a few fireplaces and a pile of debris. When Katniss pauses to look at the remains of my home, a sob escapes my chest, unable to be contained. Gale swivels in his chair to face me, his expression pained.

He places a hand over his headset to keep his voice out of Katniss' ear. "You alright?" He asks. I feel as though I might suffocate. I close my eyes as tightly as I can and shake my head back and forth. When I open my eyes, he is kneeling in front of my chair. He gently places a hand on one of my balled up fists.

"Katniss and I know what you're feeling. You're not alone," he assures me.

He bends toward me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. The action reminds me of what we promised each other in the woods. _We will be whatever we are to each other no questions asked, no rules, and no regulations. Just two people helping each other forget_. Two people who help ease each other's pain. I see the worry in his eyes, torn between helping me and helping Katniss.

His worry for Katniss wins out though and he quickly returns to his vigil, watching over her as she enters her old Victor's Village home.

* * *

><p>At <em>reflection<em> two days later we are all called to assemble in the dining hall for an announcement by President Coin. Delly and Leevy discuss the possibility that there is vital news from the war-front. With Katniss recent visit to our decimated district, I have a feeling that it is something bigger. If I know her as I think I do, this will be a declaration of her intent to be the Mockingjay.

We stand in the large crowd of citizen soldiers, peering up at a podium at the end of the hall. I watch Katniss walk away from the President before the leader of our new home takes the few steps to the podium to address us. She is an unusually precise woman, right down to the perfectly trimmed hair on her head. Something about her has set me off from the start.

President Coin announces Katniss' intention to be the Mockingjay and her clever stipulation that the Victors are to be pardoned. I look for her proudly in the audience, but can't seem to find her in the sea of faces. Instead I find another pair of grey Seam eyes from across the mass of people. Upon being caught staring he merely smirks, _apparently back to his old self._

"Is Gale Hawthorne exchanging a heated glance with you?" Delly giggles in my ear.

"It would seem so," I smile broadly at the man in question, receiving a wink in return. I have a feeling it's for Delly's benefit though. He probably knows that I don't talk about him with the girls, especially about our comfort arrangement.

* * *

><p>The first time I see Peeta in a broadcast is during one of our lessons on nuclear weaponry. I grip the pencil in my hand so hard that it snaps, earning me a venomous look from the teacher. Peeta looks healthy on the screen, but his eyes are strained, masking fear. His words are beautiful as ever, but confusing too.<p>

My day becomes consumed with the idea that he is being tortured as I walk freely through the halls. During my vocational hours, I angrily pick beets and toss them into my bucket like they've wronged me in some way.

I walk back toward my compartment for reflection, mindlessly meandering through the maze of hallways. I'm not surprised when I accidently bump into someone. I wasn't paying much attention to my path.

"Madge," Gale seems surprised to see me. I stare dazedly into his eyes; they have a silvery hue in the bright white lights.

"Gale," I finally form the word in response. His brow furrows as he appraises me. He frowns. _I hate when he frowns_.

It's been ages since we've been face to face, ages since I've felt the heat of his firestorm. And perhaps, I am emulating him when I suddenly find myself pulling at his uniform, fisting it in my palms as our lips crash together. I can feel the shock seep away from him almost instantly. I feel my limbs quaking with loss, fear, heartache, loneliness, each fighting for space in my heart. There are so many things running through my veins my body can't decide how it truly feels. I spread my palms up his chest and latch onto his neck, pulling him deeper into the embrace.

Gale pulls me flush against his chest with one strong arm as his right hand presses against my cheek. Where my lips and hands are forceful in their need to _feel_, his adept fingers are calm and slow. They lace circles in my shivering skin, coaxing the tremors away. Gale's body guides mine against the cold metal wall, encasing it protectively. His lips are too gentle and pliable, softer than what I need to make me forget. It's like our roles have reversed, the thought pulls me back.

_Peeta_, my mind begins to chant. _You're drowning your feelings with Gale's flames, while Peeta is being tortured_, it hisses in my ears. I let my lips and body go slack. I open my eyes and see the crease between Gale's brows as he senses my withdrawal.

"Something wrong?" He asks, pressing both his palms to my flushed cheeks. I sigh and lean into his hands. They are rough and calloused like I remember them. I close my eyes and seep up the warmth of his skin.

"I'm worried about Peeta. I saw him in a broadcast this morning," I admit the words shakily. Gale's hands slide down to my shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Here the warmth is even better. I've longed for comforting touches like these all day.

Gale narrows his eyes and releases his words in a quick breath, "You do have feelings for him, don't you?" The tone is almost accusatory. I laugh and roll my eyes. _This again?_ I'd almost think he was jealous.

"You never listen," I sigh and place my hands on his arms, "He's like a brother to me. Wouldn't you be worried if one of your siblings was at the hand of Snow?" I know he would be, so the question is rather pointless. Gale scowls and drops his hands from my face, effectively losing my grip on his sleeves.

This conversation is reminiscent of one that we had when Peeta and Katniss went into their first arena, "Why do you care?"

Gale steps back, filtering air between us, "I'm possessive of things I want all to myself." He looks a little shocked at his own honesty.

For all our talk of being whatever we are to each other,_ possessive_ was never something I considered. The thought that he could hold me to such a high importance makes something light in my chest. Even through the pain of seeing Peeta in distress and the worry that I have for Katniss, the thought that I am wanted in some small way, that I am needed…it means something.

My right hand moves forward of its own volition. I watch as my fingers brush down his shirt, pulling a wrinkle out of the fabric before I look into his uncertain eyes and ask the thing that I know is none of my business, "And are you still possessive of Katniss?"

"Katniss –", he has hardly spoken the word when, the very girl in question rounds the corner and nearly bumps into us.

I barely have time to quell my surprised expression. When I look back at Gale I see that whatever precipice we were standing on is miles away. I draw my hand back as if burned and let it drop limply to my side. A flash of confusion crosses her face as she takes in our positions in the hall. Gale quickly backs away from me, nodding a hello. I try to present a relaxed smile, but fail miserably.

Katniss must decide to disregard the strange atmosphere between her two closest friends, because she launches into a long winded explanation. Haymitch is gathering people from the Seam for guidance regarding her propaganda filming.

"Leevy will be there," she says timidly as she finishes explaining, "Will you both come?"

"Oh, of course Katniss," I answer immediately. She looks relieved. I shake away the sensations of the conversation from a few moments ago and focus on my best friend. She needs me and I'm not willing to let her down. Not when everything is riding on her success as the new face of the rebellion, especially not if this could somehow save Peeta.

"Yeah, we'll be there Catnip," Gale assures her. He places a hand on her shoulder and receives a smile from our companion.

* * *

><p>Later when we are all congregated to brainstorm ways to present Katniss in the propos, people from the district explain moments in which Katniss inspired them. Leevy talks about her volunteering for Prim. Her protection of Peeta and treatment of Rue are mentioned. Each person at the large round table speaks their version of inspiration. Then it is my turn to speak. Haymitch looks at me expectantly. I flush and flounder on my words for several seconds.<p>

"Spit it out girl," Haymitch barks. I swallow the lump in my throat and find myself glaring at him like I often did at home during our heated discussions about my mother. Katniss places hand on my arm. I turn toward her and see the old Katniss briefly in her expression.

I look straight into her eyes as I say, "Presenting the berries with Peeta…I knew in that moment that you weren't going to let him die and you weren't going to allow the Capitol to find a way to win," my voice gains conviction as I finish, "You weren't going to be a piece in their games." Katniss nods, but I swear I see something like regret flash through her eyes.

"Excellent!" Haymitch says. He's almost giddy with something, "And what do all these things have in common? What connects all these moments?" Haymitch asks, sweeping his hand out. He is met with silence.

"Anyone?" He raises his eyebrows as he appraises our group. Then the connection hits me.

"They're all Katniss, unscripted and pure," I nearly whisper the realization. Gale meets my eyes across the round table.

"Yes!" Haymitch slams his fist down on the table, "No scripts or rehearsed parts. They're real."

With that, Haymitch demands that Katniss film propos where the action is, where she can be inspired to provide motivating material to the masses. Her filming crew delights with ideas and hurries to make preparations.

I'm left with the sense that from here on out, I'll be worrying about her even more. I grasp her hand under the table, a small attempt at reassurance.


	4. Carved out hearts

_**A/N: This has been a long time coming. I've worked on this chapter for months on end cutting, editing, rewording, and writing new scenes. I've never spent so much time on one chapter before and it is perhaps one of the longest things I have ever written for this fandom. I hope that you enjoy the continuation of Madge and Gale's stories as the war unfolds around them. I want to thank everyone who has helped me persevere through the writers-block and the endless edits. A special thank you to Prettieparker and Belle453 who both brought honest critical eyes to earlier versions of this particular chapter. I am so grateful to you both. Finally, thank you to all of the readers who have enjoyed and participated in this story. You are all gems. There will be one more chapter to this story, which will be told in Gale's point of view in keeping with his previous chapter. Without further ado, I hope that you enjoy this continuation of Gadge's comfort arrangement. **_

* * *

><p>The only way to get sunshine in this district is during training days. If ever the choice had been presented I would not have decided to become a soldier, but anyone of age here has no luxury for choices. So on the days that exercise and training are part of my scheduling I trek up to a small field and join a group of soldiers in drills.<p>

I've always been a natural at running, but the shooting and weapons maintenance are definitely not my strength. On _good_ days I catch a glimpse of Gale. On _better_ days he sees me as well and I'm gifted with a wink or a bright cheeky smile as he disassembles and quickly reassembles firearms. He always seems to run faster if he catches me watching and I blush at his perspiration covered body as he passes me by on his next lap.

It is on one of these _better_ days that I get assigned to Gale's drill squad for the morning. As our group of soldiers hustle up to our designated area I catch sight of him staring up into the blue sky. He must sense my eyes on him because he turns to catch my gaze as I approach. A wide grin breaks across his face as his eyes trail down my approaching form and quickly slide back to my eyes. I can't help but smile in return.

"Morning Soldier Hawthorne," I greet as I come to a halt beside him.

"And what a beautiful morning it is turning out to be Soldier Undersee," he replies.

We run our warm-up lap around the field, pushing each other faster with each competitive glance. I laugh as he easily outruns me with his massive strides, but he is obviously winded as I approach the end of the lap.

"You okay there Gale?" I smirk as he clutches one of his sides in-between heavy breaths. He nods tiredly and glances around our group of peers.

"Want to partner up for stretches?" He suggests as he tilts his head toward the people who are pairing up. I nod my assent and walk toward an empty patch of grass off to the side. Gale's heavy breaths give him away behind me, but his tread is as silent as ever.

The calisthenics routine is about stretching with your natural body weight and the weight of your partner. It is always slightly awkward to be so close to people I barely know, but a different kind of blush heats my cheeks as I imagine Gale's body leaning over my own. He catches my eyes with a smirk as he lies down on his back in the grass. I feel the flush spreading down my neck as I press the weight of my body on his long legs for the first stretch.

I begin to pull back and release the stretch when his voice stops me, "Push down a little more I like a nice long stretch."

I glance back into his eyes looking for mischief but find none. I shake my head lightly and press down harder onto the backs of his legs, this stretch is painful to me, but apparently he enjoys it. The next stretch requires one leg up against his chest and I dip lower as he nods for me to press harder. I'm practically on top of him as his knee comes into contact with his chest. We switch legs and this time I keep my eyes tethered to his as I lower his leg against his chest. A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn't say anything.

As we switch places I see a glint of something in his expression, but he quickly hides it away. The burn of my muscles lessens as he presses over me, somehow gently easing me into the most painful of positions. As he releases my legs and takes my right calf into his palms pushing it up I can feel his hesitation to have his body hovering over mine.

I find my lips betraying me. "Press harder," they say and he obliges pressing my knee into my chest practically lying on top of me as he stretches the back of my leg. We move on to core muscles and arms with little incident, but our glances become more heated throughout the rest of the training session. There is little small talk between us, but then there really isn't much to say.

When we move on to weapons Gale insists on correcting my shooting form. He stands directly behind me correcting the stance of my legs, the way that I aim, and my grip on the gun. His warm palm presses into my back as I fire off a round. I have to admit that my aim improves with his help, but his presence also adds a sense of nervousness.

As the session draws to an end I spend time watching Gale disassemble and assemble his firearm with lightning speed and precision. Watching his nimble hands and the movement of the tenuous muscles in his arms fills my belly with a peculiar heat that spreads into my chest. I realize eventually that I have some strange attraction to the way he expertly handles this dangerous killing machine and I venomously scold myself for how ridiculous that attraction seems.

As we are released to our next daily assignments I feel the heat of Gale's palm on my back once more. He glances over his shoulder and then pushes me toward a trail that leads into the woods. I shoot him a confused look. Gale shushes my protest and pulls me into the underbrush. Immediately I feel my back slam into the trunk of a tree and the warm heat of Gale's body pressed against my front. His lips waste no time blazing a trail along my neck claiming anything within reach. I press my palms into the moist material at his back and sigh as he nibbles at the skin just behind my right ear.

"You've been driving me wild all morning," he breathes against my ear. I release a laugh and claim his lips with my own, savoring the hot breath that passes between them.

"Is this part of your hunting arrangement? Taking girls into the woods to have your way with them?" I ask between kisses. Gale presses against me harder, the breath from his laugh ghosting over the moist flesh at my neck.

He pulls back and looks right into my eyes as strange words fall from his lips, "Only you."

"What?" I whisper, furrowing my brows. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest.

"I want to have my way with you, no one else," he says just as quietly. The abnormal glint of emotion that I saw earlier is in his eyes and it feels something like adoration as he fully allows it to form.

"Okay," I whisper. He smiles softly.

"Okay," he says before he presses his lips more heatedly against mine.

I sigh breathily as he worships me, pressing kisses on my eyelids, my cheeks, and my mouth. I almost forget the fear in my belly that has settled there since the moment I saw Peeta on the television.

* * *

><p>After that moment Gale and I spend more time together during <em>reflection<em>. When we aren't talking we share silent rooms, relishing each other's presence. I allow him to kiss me more freely than ever before and neither of us questions the way that we seem to be gravitating to each other. I spend time with his family and learn his sibling's likes and dislikes. I especially enjoy my moments with Posy.

Life goes on and the war begins to rage more in the districts. There is more and more talk of rescuing the trapped Victors in the Capitol. I begin to think about Peeta constantly.

* * *

><p>I am picking berries in a heat and moisture controlled chamber when the sirens go off. I drop my basket as I startle from the noise and look around me, unsure what to do. The noise is deafening, reverberating off the distant walls of the chamber.<p>

"Air raid!" Someone yells.

People begin moving quickly toward the exit, so I follow the crowd, stumbling through the doorway and scraping my shoulder on the metal casing. I run through the hallways following the men and women from my harvesting group. Soldiers are yelling commands at several check-points as we go lower and lower into the depths of the compound. My ears sting with the sharp wail of the sirens.

I look up at the flashing red lights as I begin to descend a staircase and suddenly I feel myself falling. I feel my right ankle twist and pop painfully as it bends beneath me. I cry out in pain, but no one stops to help me. I shakily heave myself up on the handrail. The pounding sounds of feet running down the stairwell drive into my skull maddeningly below the sharpening siren. I try to maneuver down on my own and find it to be nearly impossible to bare weight on the bad ankle. My vision fills with tears. _I'll never make it alone_.

"Madge!" Someone yells behind me as they crest the top of the stairwell.

The person quickly comes upon me and presses their hands into my shoulders. Leevy's face is swimming in my tears, a look of concern in her misty eyes. I'm all at once terrified and relieved to see her.

"What happened?" She demands as she drops a hand to grip the shaking palm I raise toward her.

"I fell, coming down the stairs," I grit out through the pain. Leevy sighs and bends to inspect the ankle.

"Worst time to suddenly become clumsy, Madge," she mutters.

"I've always been this way. Not a graceful bone in my body."

I grimace as she presses her fingers to the swollen flesh. She glances up at one of the flashing lights above us. She bites her lip and looks down the stairwell, likely gauging how well I will be able to manage it before the bombs hit. I'm not about to let this girl potentially sacrifice herself to try and help me, no matter if we are beginning a friendship or not. _I'm not worth it_.

"Go Leevy, while you still have time. It's not worth it. Go!" I shove at her shoulder with both of my trembling palms, trying to force her onward.

_I'll only slow her up_. We don't know how much time there is, the bombs could drop at any moment. She turns back toward me and huffs out a growl of frustration before she shoves my hands out of the way. The look in her eyes is filled with Seam grit and determination.

"I'm not leaving you Madge Undersee, so you better shut up."

She forces an arm under my shoulders mid-back, wrapping it around my middle. With her help some of the weight eases off my bad ankle. We manage to hobble down the rest of the steps. I feel sweat breaking out across my hairline with the effort to keep moving. After two more flights of stairs we see the entrance to the bomb shelter below us. Leevy squeezes me tighter to her side a look of relief spreading across her face.

I realize suddenly that this girl, who I have only truly known for a short time, would not abandon me if the bombs fell before we made it to this doorway. She would not leave me to find shelter. _She would stay with me._ The thought fills my heart with the strangest fullness, a feeling I have not felt since we left our burning district. People from the Seam can be as selfless as they are self-preserving. I've seen this selflessness before, but I have never been on the receiving end of it.

People are streaming into the doorway at a dizzying pace. Leevy and I hobble through, but both stop when we see the massive cavernous room before us. A man coughs indignantly behind us and Leevy pulls me forward out of the stream of citizens. She guides me toward a female soldier with a clipboard, obviously someone who is assigning people to tasks and locations. She asks us for our names and housing assignments as soon as she spots us. Leevy answers for me, probably noticing my teeth are tensely ground together with discomfort. The woman verifies our housing assignment and then instructs us to find our designated housing area in the bunker.

Leevy steers me in the direction of our number. We find the area quickly when we see familiar faces. Delly is already there, holding her brother tightly to her side and murmuring to him. Leevy's younger brother rushes forward to hug her. Everything seems frighteningly familiar to our escape from District 12. I shiver and close my eyes as I try to will the memories away. The voices of 13's inhabitants, the sirens, the pounding of feet…it all raises into a cacophony of noise. Somehow, it's different than what happened to us in 12. I grit my teeth as I hobble the remaining feet to the bunk I will claim. Delly smiles at me encouragingly.

Somehow it feels a little safer, _but not safe enough_.

There are directions on the wall above my bunk detailing how and where to obtain our supplies. Leevy notices it just as I do. We quickly scan it and silently agree that I can't go obtain any of the necessities. There are lines of people queuing up for supplies at the far end of the bunker.

"I'll be right back," Leevy assures her brother. He looks scared to let her leave, even if she will be in sight the entire time she is away.

As Leevy awaits the supplies I hear a murmur of people at the exit. Katniss is frantically arguing with a man at the door. Before my brain can formulate what has her so enraged Gale comes through the door with Prim and Mrs. Everdeen in tow. Katniss immediately folds her sister in her arms, nearly in tears. My heart surges when the man bolts the door shut, Gale nearly missed his chance to get in.

I squeeze my fists against my lap as I watch him go to his family. On one hand I want to berate him for his stupidity, but on the other I can only imagine what would have happened to Katniss' family without him.

Delly catches my attention soon after, quickly recounting what happened on their way here. I listen half-heartedly until Leevy returns with our supplies. Just as Leevy is dropping the necessities into the squared off markings for our bunker there is a loud boom above us. The lights flicker and people scream. Someone is calmly stating directions over the loudspeaker but all I can do is lean into Leevy and Delly's quaking shoulders. We huddle close together as bomb after bomb shakes the facility. My ears clog with memories of the sounds from our burning district.

When it appears that the air raid has stopped we are directed to remain alert and to stay within our designated areas. Leevy quickly wraps up my bad ankle with some of the supplies she was able to procure for us. Delly points over my shoulder as the announcement is repeated for the second time. She is smiling through a confused expression and I turn toward what she is indicating only to find Gale walking toward us determinedly. His face is stern and serious, but I smile at the sight of him. Leevy smirks as she pats my knee and stands up, done with her makeshift wrap.

I try to stand but end up falling back onto the bunk, "Gale!" He reaches me before I can attempt to stand again.

He immediately smiles back reaching his hands out to run them over my face and hair with concern, "You alright?" He glances down at the haphazardly wrapped ankle, bending to press his fingers to it and examine the swollen flesh.

"What happened?" He demands. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"I fell down a stairwell. Leevy practically carried me here," I explain. He sighs and glances toward my face quickly before rewrapping the ankle. It does feel slightly better the way he does it, but it is wholly unnecessary to fix.

"Sorry I didn't find you. I ran into Mrs. Everdeen who was frantic about Prim running back for Buttercup. I knew just where to find her so I went," he explains as he finishes rewrapping

Leevy's work. I glance at Leevy quickly and see that her smirk has risen into a fully defiant grin. She wiggles her eyebrows at me and I try to fight the flush creeping across my cheeks.

"That was brave but stupid of you," I scold. Gale laughs and takes my hand into his. He presses a kiss onto the back of my hand. The blush finally wins out and gloriously overtakes me.

"I'll try to keep that in mind, but I can't make any promises," he rises and nods at the group around me.

"See you later, I need to get some stuff for Ma," he says as he begins to walk away.

"Yeah, I'll see you," I say lightly. I stare at his retreating back until I see him get into the supply line. I look down at where he kissed my hand and press the fingers of my other hand over it with a sigh.

The mattress sags as Leevy plops down beside me, "Care to explain why Hawthorne needed to check up on you?"

"Just being a good friend," I say. She doesn't buy it though, I can see it in her expression. Delly sits down on my other side again, leaning against me as she glances toward Gale.

"I sure would like to be his _good_ _friend_ too. I imagine it has a lot of benefits," she says. Leevy snorts at her.

"I bet Madge would know all about those benefits!" Leevy pats my leg forcefully.

"There's nothing going on! I swear it," I try to fix my face with a firm expression.

"Keep denying it all you want, we've got you pegged Margaret Undersee," Delly smiles sweetly.

I roll my eyes at them and attempt to suppress a smile.

* * *

><p>I fall into a restless sleep that evening as bombs periodically shake District 13. They shut most of the lights off, but the numbers above our quartered areas glow brightly in the darkness. It begins to feel as though we are in the great underbelly of a boat, rocking on endless waves. The bombs ebb and flow like the deep dark water of the ocean. Of course, I've only seen it during the Games. I even had nightmares about it the year that Annie Cresta won because she was the only tribute who could swim for hours.<p>

I catch a glimpse of Katniss talking with Finnick Odair under one of the glittering lights. They are knelt close together, whispering with pained expressions. Finnick appears to be teaching Katniss how to knot some sort of rope. I watch them for a while, pondering the life of Victors. _How terrible it must be to only have such a horrific past in common with someone_.

Not far off, just two rows down, I see the Hawthorne's number shimmering like a beacon above Gale. He is sitting against the bottom bunk where Rory and Vick appear to be huddled together. Gale has his knees bent up against his chest, his elbows resting on them and his hands pressed into his military haircut. I sigh and throw my blankets off, gingerly stepping off my bunk. I make my way over to Gale as quietly as I can, hobbling on my patched ankle and moving much slower than I'm used to. He looks up just as I approach.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask quietly, glancing up at his sleeping siblings. Posy's in the top bunk, sleeping soundly. The boys haven't moved an inch, completely unaware of my presence. Hazelle is turned away from us in the bunk that is perpendicular to the wall.

Gale sighs, dropping his hands between his knees, "I'll be okay, yeah."

"You alright?" He asks, patting his hand on the cold concrete ground beside him, a gesture for me to sit.

"I will be," I nod and gingerly lower myself beside him. I lean my head on his shoulder and find myself sighing as well.

"It almost feels like 12 all over again, huh?" He whispers as he lays his head on mine.

I nod against him, feeling the knot in my stomach clench. It's hard for me to admit just how terrifying this whole experience has been for me. It's like my life is nothing but terrible things lately. Well, except for the people in it.

"Do you think Peeta's alright?" I ask softly. I've been worried about him from the moment I got a grip of myself down here. _What will they do to him for warning us?_ Gale presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"We're going to get him out of there, I don't know when, but it has to be soon." He grabs my left hand in his right and squeezes it gently before he begins to run his thumb back and forth over my skin.

"I hope you're right," I whisper before I raise our clasped hands and press a kiss to the back of his.

"I'm going to go check on Katniss, and then I should try to get some more sleep. You should too." I release his hand and pat his leg softly before I attempt to stand. He ends up helping me to my feet.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, "Goodnight, Madge."

* * *

><p>The next morning when Leevy and I go back up to our designated compartment I find Primrose Everdeen crying in an empty stairwell. I wave Leevy on, exchanging a quick decisive look with her. It's better for Leevy to take her brother back to our hallway; he's been through so much over the past day. Delly took her brother up as soon as we could be released, but Leevy and I lingered letting some other people through the stairwell ahead of us.<p>

Leevy presses a hand into my shoulder and squeezes before she leads her brother away. I turn to the youngest Everdeen, wringing my hands in my shirt for a moment before I get the nerve to interrupt her.

"Prim?" I ask tentatively, raising my hand to one of her shaking shoulders. She turns rapidly and smiles at me through watery tears, "Oh, hello Madge."

"What's the matter?"

"Katniss - she had a fainting spell. I'm just so tired and I feel guilty that I wasn't there. I think I'm just overwhelmed by everything that's happening," Prim explains, wiping at her eyes. A slight blush settles over her cheeks.

"I'm sure she'll be fine Prim," I assure her, running my hand down her arm in the most encouraging way I can. This girl seems so much taller and older than I remember her being only a few months ago. She was so brave during and after the bombings, helping all those people.

"Thank you, Madge. You're always so nice. Do you want to come with me to see Katniss?" Prim asks as she soaks up the last of her tears with her sleeve.

"Yes, of course." I haven't been there enough for her, of course I should help a friend.

Prim loops her arm through mine and leads me to the hospital wing. We make small talk as we traverse stairs and elevators, hallways, and rooms full of people. _How many times has Katniss been here? _I think bitterly as we enter the reception area for the medical bay that Katniss seems to be practically living in.

The receptionist smiles jovially at Prim, who offers a small wave in return. Prim knocks quietly on Katniss' door. There is no response, but Prim presses the entrance button and pulls me into the quiet room regardless. Katniss is lying in the bed, nearly completely still. If I couldn't see that her eyes are wide open, I would have thought her asleep. Her eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, completely disregarding our presence.

Prim's arm falls to her side, away from mine, but her hand quickly grasps my palm. I squeeze hers in return as we walk toward the bed.

"Katniss?" Prim asks softly. Her sister blinks rapidly for a second before glancing at us.

"How are you feeling?" Prim questions, placing her free hand on Katniss' arm, which is lying limp by her side.

Katniss sighs, closing her eyes briefly. A few crocodile tears seep from her lashes, rolling down her cheeks into her ears, disappearing behind her hair. Prim release my palm and presses both of her hands to Katniss cheeks. She bends down and kisses the wet trails of tears away.

"I know it's hard to be here again," Prim assures her sister.

"It's not that," Katniss voice is dry and coarse.

I immediately pour a glass of water with the pitcher at her bedside, holding it at the ready. Prim takes the cold glass settles it into Katniss shaking hands. She grips her sister's fingers, willing her to hold the glass tightly. She helps her take a heaping gulp of the water. Katniss glances away from Prim and smiles at me softly with gratitude, but it doesn't really reach her eyes.

"Gale's gone," she whispers, eyeing me warily, "On a rescue mission to save the Capitol prisoners."

"To save Peeta," Katniss chokes, more tears sliding down her face.

She begins to shake, spilling water over her fingers. Prim hands the glass to me once more and I place it on the table, staring at the bobbing water. _Gale's gone, to the Capitol, he didn't tell me he was leaving. He didn't say goodbye_. I feel a tense vice wrapping around my chest, then the sensation of a knife carving forcefully into me. It feels like a hole has been carved where my heart belongs. I clear my throat and fight back tears.

"Who told you?" I ask suddenly needing to know how she found out this information. Prim shoots me a disapproving look, obviously not wanting to further Katniss' reaction to the subject.

"Haymitch," Katniss grits out. The two have been on less than stellar terms since he left Peeta to rot in the arena. _I can't say I blame her_.

"Will you –" Katniss starts, but I jump in before she finishes.

"Yes, I'll go see if he knows anything else. Right now," I rush out. I lean forward, brushing past Prim's shoulder. I press a kiss to the top of Katniss head.

"They'll be okay. Peeta and Gale, I know it," I tell her adamantly as I rush out of the room in search of Haymitch.

* * *

><p>When I was a child I saw a lot of Haymitch Abernathy. It was to be expected when he was trudged through our house each year during the Victory Tours. Then there were the occasions during which he came to speak with my parents, though for the most part I was ushered outside during those times. He was always like the drunken comical Uncle that I never had, though there were times that he seemed more caring than that.<p>

I throw my thoughts of childhood aside as I rush through the hallways, searching for the old mentor. I eventually find him near Coin's headquarters, leaning against a wall, deep in thought. He startles when I tap him on the shoulder and grips at his waist searching for a non-existent weapon. I step back and give him space. I haven't spoken much to him in recent months and he looks so different these days. I sigh and rub my eyes before launching into my demands.

"What do you know about the mission?" I ask immediately without preamble. He furrows his eyebrows for a moment, eyes flitting across my determined expression.

He scoffs, "What's it to you sweetheart?"

I frown at the endearment. He always was one to throw in annoyingly sweet talk. My mother often found it flattering. Of course, he has had his merits over the years, but right now, I'm all business.

"Gale Hawthorne's on it isn't he?" He nods, eyeing me with suspicion.

"And what's the cousin have to do with any of _your_ priorities?" He asks, rubbing his hand over his rough unshaven chin.

"I'm here for Katniss," I state simply. He rolls his eyes.

"Get back to your compartment kid, there's nothing new for me to tell her. It's a shit show and they've been sent straight to hell in a hand-basket, but it ain't over, so all we can do is sit tight and wait."

_A shit show, they've been sent to hell. _I cringe, grinding my teeth against his honesty. The heart-shaped hole in my chest feels like its seeping blood. I begin to wonder if I've lost my lungs too, I feel out of breath and light headed. I turn on my heel and feel myself gasping for a breath that just won't come. I walk away from him without another word, blindly making my way to my compartment. I can feel the sobs ready to burst out of my throat; they're strangling me as I pull my access card out of my pocket. The tears finally begin to fall as I force the card into the slot that opens our door. I fall into the room and allow the emotions to pour out. Delly and Leevy guide me to my bed and rub soothing hands across my teary face and my shaking back. They don't question me.

It isn't until I lay in bed that night that I realize I never went back to tell Katniss that _everything is going great on the mission_. She deserved at least that little lie.

* * *

><p>Delly and I are together when we hear that the soldiers have returned from the Capitol. We immediately make our way to the medical bay, hope and fear fueling us as we run in the maze of hallways. The elevator ride seems to be the longest journey of my life and my heart beats erratically with impatience. I need to at least set eyes on Gale and Peeta. I have to know that they are both okay. I need them to both be okay.<p>

When Katniss had told me that Gale was the first to volunteer for the rescue team it felt like I had swallowed a rock. The heavy mass has been settled in the bottom of my stomach, knotting my insides ever since.

Delly and I lean against the walls of the elevator shakily watching the numbers tick past. She reaches over and grips one of my sweaty palms in hers whispering, "Peeta's alive, I just know it." I nod and don't mention that the rock in my stomach settled there after Gale left.

We both dash from the elevator as soon as the doors open and we are met with chaos. There are people running in all directions; nurses pushing silver medical carts laden with supplies, doctors yelling orders, family members crying with relief. I throw my arm out to push Delly back as a wayward medical cart nearly hits her. She grabs my arm, sliding her palm down to grasp my hand tightly. We pull close together and make our way to the desk that I went to when I came to see Katniss. The nurse behind the station is hurriedly typing on her computer, reading reports off a tablet in front of her. She doesn't seem to notice Delly and I.

"Excuse me, Miss, we're here to check on our friend. He just arrived from the Capitol," Delly says politely. I silently thank her for taking the initiative. I don't think my voice works. The woman looks up. Her light brown eyes size us up. She blinks as though she didn't register what Delly just said to her.

"Our friend, Peeta Mellark. Is he alive?" Delly asks. Her hand is holding mine so tightly that it feels as though my fingers will go numb.

"That's classified information. Only immediate family members can –," the woman is stopped short when Delly interrupts her, a very un-Delly like thing to do.

"He doesn't have any family left Miss, we're his family now," Delly pleads. Her voice is shaky with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," the woman starts, but Delly won't take that as an answer.

"I'm probably his fourth cousin once removed! Is that a close enough relative," Delly demands. The strain in her voice is probably the most I have ever heard from her in the way of anger. Delly never gets angry, or at least she never lets it show.

The woman looks over our shoulders at the chaos around us, and then she glances down at the tablet on her desk. She hurriedly runs her fingers across it, scanning the images and words. "Yes, he is alive. That's probably all I should tell you though, I can't give out any more information."

The woman has a look of pity on her features, "I really need to keep working. I'm sorry girls." _What's wrong with him that warrants a look of pity?_

"No, thank you. We just needed to know that he survived," Delly says. Just as she turns back to say something to me I hear Hazelle reprimanding Rory. Immediately I turn to locate the woman. She's with Rory and Vick outside one of the treatment rooms. Gale must be inside the room because it looks as though they are exiting. _He must be hurt._

"Madge?" Delly calls to me as I pull away from her and make a bee-line for the Hawthorne trio. Vick waves at me as I approach, smiling_._ He would surely be crying if Gale was seriously injured. Hazelle looks up when she sees Vick waving and her face softens at the sight of me. Words catch in my throat, _why did I just run over here like that?_

Delly finally catches up to me, saying a swift hello to the Hawthorne's before questioning my sudden departure, "What's the matter, Madge?" Delly's bright blue eyes are filled with concern and I realize that she has placed a hand on my shoulder. I glance between her and Hazelle who is now looking at me with curiosity.

"I – well, I – I wondered if Gale was hurt," I explain just as the very man steps out of the door behind Hazelle. His face is scraped raw in a few places, but he appears whole. He looks fierce and weathered like he did right after the bombings.

"Gale, you're alright," I release the words on a breath that I didn't realize I was holding in and lunge forward to embrace him. He raises one arm to squeeze me to his chest before I pull myself away.

"Yeah, I guess I'm okay," he mutters. I allow myself to take in more of him, scanning my eyes over every limb. His arm is in a sling, but he doesn't appear to be too fazed by it.

"Your arm!" I raise my hand toward the injured limb helplessly. He furrows his brows and looks down at it as though his own extremity has offended him in some way.

"It's my shoulder actually, I got shot." You would think that the statement _I got shot_ was something he says every day it is stated with such indifference.

"You were shot!?" I feel my heart clenching again. My voice is tense and screechy in my own ears. The nerve of this boy, the utter nerve of him! _Doesn't he know how worried I've been?_

"You could have been killed! What were you thinking volunteering to go to the Capitol? I've been worried sick, you didn't even say goodbye! The least you could do was let me know you were leaving." The words pour out of me like rapid gun-fire, hitting Gale square in the chest. I could maim him myself right here in front of all these people - _Oh my goodness, everyone's watching me aren't they?_

"Nice to see you too," Gale smirks as I look around with embarrassment. Then his face falls back into the pained expression that he previously wore.

"Don't worry Madgie he didn't even tell us he was going, his own flesh and blood!" Rory says sarcastically as he pats my shoulder with a heavy hand. I feel my cheeks flushing with heat. Vick and Rory are standing on either side of me looking between me and their brother.

"How's Peeta?" Delly asks suddenly. Leave it to Delly to change the subject and save me, _then again I should have asked about Peeta too. _Gale shares a heated glance with his mother and shakes his head. The exchange worries me.

"He's – no, we can't talk about it here," Gale falters for a moment then firmly declines to answer. _What's so bad that he can't just tell us?_

We follow the Hawthorne family out of the medical bay and allow Hazelle and the kids to take the first elevator. Gale motions with his good arm for Delly and I to get onto the next elevator. He steps in and presses a button for a floor I haven't been to. His face is rigid, his jaw clenched as he stares at the numbers blinking above the door. Delly and I lean against the back wall, close together, the same position we held on our first elevator trip.

"Gale," I start tentatively. He turns his steely gaze toward me. "What's happened? Peeta's alive?"

He sighs and looks away from our hopeful expressions. Delly's body is radiating a soft warm heat, but I can feel her shaking slightly against me. "Mellark isn't…himself anymore. They tortured him and….he's lost his mind. He's a fucking lunatic now, a murderous raving madman. Peeta Mellark is gone and if he comes back it will be a miracle," Gale grits out the words that I feared the most.

_Torture, lost his mind, gone. Gone where? Lost his mind?_ I've always hated the phrase. Capitol people would say it when they described my mother. _She's lost her mind, that one_. As if she simply left it somewhere by accident, as if she could find the broken pieces again. When Gale says it though, I know things are bad.

I need to know what happened, but I don't want to ask. My voice is flat as I formulate the words, "How did they torture him?"

Gale's eyes meet mine and the pain I see in them takes my breath away. "I don't know yet, but whatever happened to him must have been the most horrific thing imaginable. He wouldn't be broken by the same things that Annie and Johanna were. They turned his mind against Katniss. He just almost killed her, choked her until she passed out…screaming his head off the whole time about her being a mutt. It took five people to knock him out after."

"Oh Peeta, no." Delly is shaking her head, tears pouring down her face. She presses her hands against her mouth to hold in her sobs, closing her eyes.

I feel my childhood friend's name fall from my lips on a whisper as I turn towards her shaking form. I wrap my arms around her just as the doors open to the floor Gale selected. She allows me to hug her, but refuses to exit the elevator with us. Instead she vows to go back to our room. My legs feel leaden and I can't bring myself to join her.

I stand staring at her sobbing form as the doors to the elevator close. Gale stands beside me, watching with the same clench-jawed expression he wore before he told us the truth. Peeta is alive, but he is no longer the same boy who made me laugh. He is no longer a boy at all.

"I'm sorry," Gale mumbles after the doors close all the way, blocking Delly from view.

I'm not sure what exactly he's sorry for, but the words feel empty and don't help in the least. We feel farther apart than we ever have, but I can't bring myself to be the one who bridges the gap. Every emotion within my head is laced with the complicated status of our friendship and the way we care for those around us. For the first time I realize exactly how terrified I was of losing Gale. I turn toward him slowly unsure how to address this reality. Gale is still grimacing at the elevator doors.

"Why did you leave for the Capitol without telling me?" I ask quietly. I watch him swallow and close his eyes for a moment before he looks down at me. He sighs and immediately wraps his free arm around me. I feel tears springing to my eyes once more.

"I'm sorry for that too," he exhales. I finally melt into the embrace, wrapping my arms around his solid form. My palms press into his back and the gentle but rigid expanse of muscles there.

"I was terrified," I admit.

"Me too," he whispers. I release a whimper at his words. How selfish of me to express my fear when he was probably in near-death experiences.

"They said they were getting a crew together for the rescue. I was the first to volunteer; I didn't have time to tell anyone. It happened quickly," he explains

Gale squeezes me harder to his chest, a feat in itself considering he only has one good arm. I wonder briefly if my shoulder is pressing into his wound and slowly pull myself away. He would never tell me if something like this was hurting him. My eyes scan the wrapped shoulder and sling, my brow furrowing with worry. Gale's free hand gently presses under my chin, raising my face to his. He presses a soft kiss over the crease between my eyebrows.

"You don't have to worry anymore, I'm fine," he assures me.

"You were shot! How is that fine?" I force the words out and feel that frustration welling up in my chest again. He has the audacity to smirk.

"Maybe I should get shot more often, I love it when you're mad."

I huff angrily. Normally I would shove him in the chest for being so saucy, but I haven't the heart to purposefully bring him pain. So instead I hit the elevator button again.

"I'm going to find Delly. Come find me when you aren't being such a pest."

He almost laughs, but maybe he doesn't have it in him to do such a thing right now. Not with what has happened with Peeta. I stare up at him as I wait for the elevator. He looks back at me with an almost empty expression; there is something in the way he keeps running his eyes over my face though. It's almost as though he can't believe I am real and whole. Perhaps he was terrified for me too, for his family, not knowing what would happen to us when he left us unguarded. Maybe he'll tell me eventually what happened to him in the Capitol, during the rescue, and when he got shot. For right now, I almost don't want to know. The elevator dings to announce its arrival.

"Next time you leave you better say goodbye," I say and press a quick kiss to his cheek, right over one of the raw patches of skin. He frowns, a glassy expression in his eyes, and slowly starts walking down the unmarked hallway away from me.

"Goodnight Madge," he calls as he disappears from view.

* * *

><p>After two days we learn what happened to make Peeta a monster and what it entails. Gale takes me to his compartment so that we can discuss the truth in private.<p>

"This changes everything," he says, squinting his eyes and pressing fists against his head. I sit down beside him on his bed. He has neatly folded the bedding. I stare at the tucked in edges as Gale groans.

He hisses out a wounded sound, "It's the most fucked up thing I have ever heard of. They've stolen who he is. Everything about him, his past, present and future have all been poisoned."

I never imagined that I would see Gale sorry for Peeta, but then again Gale is not a heartless person. He is merely a boy pretending to be a man and I am merely a girl pretending that he can protect me. The truth is our own friends are now the monsters that we feared as children, the monsters that lashed out at us from underneath our beds with jagged teeth and hateful words.

"It was always difficult to hate Peeta, because he was just too good, you know," Gale looks into my eyes and I feel a tear fall singularly down my right cheek. Peeta, the boy who was too decent for us all, they've stolen him away. They've ripped him apart and scattered the pieces. They've left _nothing_ good of him.

Suddenly Katniss comes to mind, "How is she doing? Have you seen her?" The words are crackling out of my throat with so much effort I sprinkle his bed linens in tears. Since the arrival from the Capitol, I haven't seen hide or hair of her. I haven't seen the evidence of her attack.

Gale flashes me a look filled with venom. "You haven't seen what he did to her?"

Gale's response is impulsively vicious. I shake my head and fight more tears as he describes how Peeta nearly choked the life out of her. He describes the bruises on her neck in sickening detail, how her airway was almost crushed, how she gasped for air as Peeta menacingly glared at her. It is all too horrific. This detailed synopsis is more horrifying than the brief explanation Gale gave me two days ago in the elevator.

My heart feels as though it is melting in my chest like there is molten acid dissolving every inch of it. _If a person such as Peeta can be broken, then what hope is left for those of us that aren't as worthy of life as him?_

"She was already acting like he was dead. He might as well be, the way they left him in pieces. He's nothing more than a beast disguised in sheep's clothing. He's not Peeta," he grits the words between his teeth. His voice is almost flat as he starts speaking again, "I thought saving him would bring Katniss back, now I'm going to lose her forever."

My heart aches for him, for Peeta, for Katniss. Perhaps some of the ache is for me, but I'm not sure. I can't separate my pain anymore. It's all one massive bleeding sore like my internal organs are spilling out a hole in my chest. There has been so much death, so much loss and now this. One of the only friends I have in the world has disappeared and in his place is a changeling. And of his love, a girl that I hold dear to my own heart, she is nothing but a shell. Gale's right, Katniss will surely break. She will never be the same. _It's what Snow wanted isn't it?_

Gale releases a laugh as though his jaws are pushing it out on forced breath, "I always wondered when she would realize which one of us that she can't live without, but without Peeta as a choice she won't know what to do."

A heated flame of anger rises beneath the hole in my chest, pouring out with the remnants of my heart. "Love is never a choice, it just happens," I tell him vehemently. Gale laughs again. It's a bitter sound in the hushed room.

"Do you want her to _choose_ you?" _Is that what he really wants?_ He looks straight into my eyes, holding my gaze like an iron vice. His own eyes are shimmering in the florescent lights; his cheeks flush from his anger. The raw patches of skin on his cheeks are healing slowly. He clears his throat.

"I don't know what I want anymore. I _need_ you Madge. I need you like I need air and that fucking scares me. I've never felt this way before," It's spoken on a whisper and the breathy sigh that releases it fans across my wet cheeks. _How did he get so close? Was it him or was it me that brought our faces together? _

"And what about you?" He asks. I watch his eyebrows knit together and feel the gentle puffs of his breath on my face.

I swallow, not looking away from his shining eyes, "What about me?"

"Do you know what you want? If love isn't a choice for you, you know where you stand." He blinks and the long dark eyelashes that rim his eyes seem to capture my attention.

_Where do I stand?_ I think of a dream I had only a few nights ago. A dark valley beside a river where my parents, the only people I truly loved, were washed down stream and the mountain ridges that surrounded me blocked out the sun. I had stood in that place wondering where to go. If I were to head down-stream to be with my parents I would be killed in the rapids of the river. If I made it to the tops of the mountains and saw the sun, I might see villages in the distance and find other people. The mountains to the East were jagged rocks with cliffs and moss. The mountains to the West were filled with dense trees.

I had thought to myself _"Do I journey to watch the sun rise or set? If I go east I am likely to fall, if I go west I could be eaten by wild animals."_ What if I knew that someone I loved was on either of those mountain tops? Would I travel either of the perilous routes to have the chance to be with them? Do I even have room in my heart to love someone? I imagine someone plugging the leaking hole in my chest, revitalizing me, lifting me up. I will never reach the sun and feel its warmth if I don't at least try. And that's the answer. I realize it in this moment here with him questioning me like this; I will journey through hardships and leave that hope alive that I may reach the sun.

"I stand in the valley between lost love and the love that I can't yet see. If I leave the hope alive, then I will climb out of the valley and find out whether love is waiting on the other side. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I have to at least leave room in my heart for it."

"And there is room?" Gale's voice is quiet.

"For love or for you?" I ask because I honestly don't know which he is looking for.

"For me…is there room for me?"

His words are gentle as they breeze across my face. My cheeks are no longer damp with tears. My stomach clenches at the thought of being honest, but Gale and I have been honest with each other since the day in the woods. _We are what we are to each other, whatever it may be._ In this moment he could be the river, the cliffs, and the forest. He could be the sun.

"There will always be a part of my heart that belongs to you, no matter what. I didn't _choose_ that space. One day I just realized that you had already filled it," I admit.

"Will you ever forgive me for taking that part of your heart without asking?" He asks.

"I already have," I kiss his forehead and pull away. He seems so torn with emotions. It hurts to see him this way. I'm so used to seeing him strong.

"There is a part of me that needs you so badly I feel blinded by it and need isn't enough. You deserve more. I'm so confused sometimes, you know? One moment I see this future with Katniss and the next you're there in her place. What does that even mean?" He sighs dejectedly, grimacing at me.

"I don't know. I'm seventeen years old and you're the only boy I've ever kissed," I run my fingers along his forehead and down his cheek, catching them on stubble. He smiles sadly.

Gale leans forward and chastely presses his lips to mine. The hand that isn't tied in a sling grasps one of mine pulling it up to his lips so that he can kiss every knuckle. He closes his eyes for a moment with my hand pressed against his lips, then he whispers, "I'll never deserve even a little corner of your heart, but I can give you my heart in return. I can try to give you all that I have left."

"Only give me what you can afford, I don't want to take what isn't rightfully mine," I say seriously. Gale's eyes rise to mine, tethering me to the spot. For the thousandth time I feel like his eyes have trapped me. My heart begins to beat erratically for no reason at all.

"Do you love me?" He asks suddenly. I can't look away from the glassy grey that has ensnared me.

"Yes," I whisper. Gale releases a strangled sound and reaches his hand up to my face, which somehow is covered in tears again.

"Then all of it should be rightfully yours anyway, you're the only one who does. You'll protect it won't you Madge?"

I nod, "Yes. I will."

Gale nods too and I watch a single tear slip down his cheek, "I will never deserve you, but I'll be damned if I don't try to."

He pulls me into his chest and kisses me serenely. I lose myself in it, feeling the emotions of the day wash over me in confusing waves. Somehow everything has taken a completely different turn and it feels as though we are no longer playing a game. This is no longer an arrangement. This is real.

* * *

><p>Delly is enlisted to help Peeta almost immediately. The doctors want her to only talk about childhood memories that she shares with Peeta. It doesn't go as well as they plan for it to at first, but eventually Peeta concedes to her cheerful attempts to converse about days long past. In the beginning more often than not Delly returns to our compartment heartbroken and terrified. We spend a lot of our reflection periods thinking of different things that could be safe topics for her. Eventually it comes time for me to assist Peeta in person. It's Gale who breaks the news to me during the breakfast meal one morning.<p>

I'm twirling my spoon in my increasingly cold porridge when Gale plops his tray down across from me. He presents me with a nod and a soft smile, "Morning Madge." Rory takes a seat beside him shortly after, nodding a hello as well.

"Morning," I say lightly, continuing to stir the congealed brown mass in my bowl.

Gale clears his throat after he swallows a heaping spoonful of the mush, "Something on your mind?"

My spoon pauses in its circular pattern, "Just thinking about Peeta. Delly's running out of things that won't set him off."

Gale nods and sighs. He swallows another spoonful of his still steaming porridge. I glance at Rory who seems less than thrilled with the breakfast choice of the day. I give him as reassuring a smile I can as he begins to eat.

"Yesterday Haymitch and Dr. Aurelius were talking about you," Gale states, drawing my attention back to him. His hair is tousled today and I notice just how short he's been keeping it as of late. It's still long enough to run my fingers through, but it is similar to the haircuts the other soldiers are keeping here.

"Talking about me?" I ask completely confused with what the psychologist and Haymitch could possibly be discussing.

"Sounds like they want you to replace Delly for a while, you gonna be up for that if they ask?" He runs his eyes over the tense expression that is probably clearly visible on my face. I can't hide the emotions welling up inside me. It feels like a million years since I've stood within the same room as Peeta, talked to him, hugged him.

"I'll do whatever needs to be done to help him. I love him like a brother, you'd do it for Rory," I nod toward the younger Hawthorne. Rory looks up at me and glances at his brother quickly before looking back at his bowl.

"I'd do anything to help Gale too," Rory says quietly as he chews his food with a thoughtful expression. Gale raises an arm and squeezes across his brother's shoulders before he presses his hand into Rory's hair and ruffles it. Rory smiles lightly and continues to eat.

"Thanks kid," Gale says lightly. I can see love in his eyes as he smiles softly down at the younger boy who is almost a spitting image of him. My heart skips a little beat, the sight quelling some of the emotions in my chest.

I glance away from the Hawthorne boys as another tray is placed down beside me. Expecting Leevy or Delly, I look up into the strained face of Katniss. Instantly I feel regret mulling in my stomach. I've been nearly avoiding her, unsure what to do or say in regards to the recent developments in our life. Katniss nods a solemn hello and I find my eyes sliding to the fading bruises on her neck. I look down at my bowl and shove a large spoonful of the cold porridge into my mouth, chewing it animatedly before choking it down.

"Morning!" I chirp loudly, avoiding Gale's confused stare. Katniss grimaces at my high-pitched tone and practically whispers her meek 'hello'. I shoot her a cheerful smile that seems to confuse her as well as the boys across from us.

"I haven't seen you in so long Katniss, look at us eating next to each other just like old times," I gush, practically strangling myself with my own false happiness. In old times we ate silently.

"It's alright Madge, you don't have to avoid it. Everyone knows what happened when he came back…" Katniss trails off, staring into her bowl. I close my eyes briefly and mentally slap myself for being such a lunatic. I feel a flush spread across my cheeks. _I'm such an idiot sometimes._ Katniss looks up at me as I press a hand into hers under the table.

"I'm sorry, I'm being silly," I state simply. One corner of her lips pulls up as she nods. Her grey eyes look tired.

"How are you, really?" I ask quietly. Katniss sighs, shaking her head slightly.

"I should have come to check up on you in the hospital ward," I say regretfully. She shakes her head more firmly and spoons some of her steaming meal into her mouth.

"It's alright, Gale and Prim were there," she says softly. I glance across at Gale who smiles softly at me, reassuring me the best he can. _Of course_, he's a better friend than I'll ever be to Katniss.

* * *

><p>The next morning as I stick my arm in the machine that prints my daily schedule I find two new slots present before my mandated work and classes. <em>8:30am Debriefing – Office 090<em> and _9:00am Meeting - Holding Cell 1-A_. I sigh and press my fingers against my tired eyes. _Am I ready for this? _

After I eat a quick breakfast of toast with an apple I take an elevator to the floor that holds the offices. There are more people milling about on this floor than is typical. A man accidently bumps into me and immediately apologizes; I stare at him in a daze only nodding as he hurriedly backs away. I make my way slowly through a waiting room area and two hallways, looking for office 090.

It turns out the door is in a corner room where two hallways converge. There is a bronze plaque in the wall just beside the doorway. I run my finger over the letters in the name. _Dr. Augustus Aurelius_. Immediately I think of the old tome about Caesar that my father loved to read. I knock once on the door and hear a solid, "Enter". Shakily I press the button that slides the metal door into the wall, granting me entrance.

The man behind the desk stands as I enter the room, a warm smile spreading across his face. He is both alarming and welcoming, an unusually tall man with startling green eyes and longer hair than most soldiers here. At once I am filled with the impression that he is originally from the Capitol. The manner in which he holds himself gives it away, though the uncommon brightness of his eyes also betrays him.

He gestures toward a metal chair across from his desk, "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you," I bow my head as I mumble my reply, sitting gingerly in the cold chair.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Undersee, I'm Dr. Aurelius," he begins as he takes his own seat behind the desk. He folds his long fingers together on top of a stack of papers. His desk is neatly kept and nearly empty but for a few folders.

"It is lovely to meet you," I reply steeling my nerves and trying to infuse some of my old mayor's daughter etiquette. It feels like an eternity since I've used it. Dr. Aurelius nods, smiling once more. I can see his eyes examining my cheerful, but false expression.

"As you may have heard, we have been trying to help strengthen some of Peeta's memories in hopes of giving him a means to tell the difference between things that are real and things that never happened," he begins. I nod politely.

"As your roommate must have told you, it went very poorly in the beginning. Now, things are really shaping up though. We would like to enlist your help if you are willing," he smiles again.

I glance down at the schedule on my arm; it looks to me as though I never really got the choice of being _willing_. I sigh and look back at the oddly green eyes of the man before me, _for Peeta_, I tell myself.

"I would love to help in any way I can. Peeta means a great deal to me," I say firmly, despite the quake in my hands. Dr. Aurelius smiles wider, which sends a chill up my back. Although he seems completely welcoming there is something almost frightening about him.

"Lovely," he says, rising from his chair. "Come this way, I'll take you to his cell and tell you about how we will proceed from here."

The next half hour is spent discussing Peeta's treatment and the memories they would like me to focus on. Happy things, childish things, bland everyday things, _everything that does not involve the Hunger Games and Katniss Everdeen_. Dr. Aurelius leads me to Peeta's room where we observe him sitting at a desk drawing. It is strange to watch him through the glass like this. _Does he always feel as though people are watching him? Can he see us? _

"Good luck Miss Undersee," Dr. Aurelius says as he pats my shoulder and sends me off into the adjoining room.

I knock softly and wait until Peeta's quiet reply. "Come in."

I open the door slowly and glance at the large glass window from which I observed him before. It is black and clearly _not _see-through on this end. That must be so frightening to Peeta. He doesn't glance up as I step into the room and quietly shut the door. The glass window faces his back, so I hadn't been able to see his drawing from there. Now, only a few feet within the door I am at his side and provided a much better view of the large white sheet before him. He's sketching a building with a wide pencil that is very different from the writing utensils we use in our classes here. _Much less sharp, much less likely to be a harmful weapon. _

"Well, are you going to sit down Delly?" Peeta says distractedly, furrowing his brow as he looks over the sketch. I take a few steps closer to him, wringing my hands in the hem of my grey district shirt.

I clear my throat, "Hello Peeta." He drops his pencil and looks up, startled.

"Madge," he whispers almost reverently.

I smile timidly as his eyes roam over me in a subtle awe, as though he never thought I would be here. He pushes back from the desk and slowly rises from his chair. The desk is bolted to the floor, as are the bed and the dresser. Delly told me once that he used to throw the furniture around the room when she first visited. We stand several feet apart staring at each other for several long quiet moments. He looks so different. His face is gaunt and sharp. Everything about him is thinner than ever before. His eyes have lost their vibrant enthusiastic sapphire hue and instead shimmer at me as a pale slate blue.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, turning away from me slightly and taking a few deep breaths. He's fighting a memory of some sort, _of what?_

"You're not dead?" He asks flatly.

It's an odd statement. I take a step closer to him, unsure if I am allowed to place a hand on his shoulder. That might scare him. I don't want that. He opens his eyes and I see his jaw tense at my proximity. Immediately I take two steps back.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say firmly. He nods, glancing over my form again.

"They showed me films of the bombing, in the Capitol," he says slowly, gritting his teeth and shaking his head to rid the glazed expression that is threatening to take over. His internal struggle is so visible it pains me.

"They blew up the Mayor's house," his tone is almost a question. I nod and feel the prickle of tears settling behind my eyes, ready to take shape at any moment.

"I made it though, I'm alive. I've missed you so very much," I tell him, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. _I wonder who is watching us beyond the glass. Do they know how much I have worried over this boy? How much I love him._

"Your parents?" He asks quietly. I shake my head and look down quickly.

"It's her fault Madge! You don't trust her do you? Do you sit with her at lunch here too? She's a monster you know, she killed your family!"

He begins to rant heatedly and I glance back at the window behind me. _Should I go?_ Dr. Aurelius said this was his reaction to Delly too at first. Delly had mistakenly tried to reassure Peeta that Katniss is not harmful, that she is only_ good_ things. That had back-fired too. I take a deep breath and step toward my childhood friend turning on my mayor's daughter etiquette once more.

"That's a lovely picture Peeta, what is it?" I ask softly, completely ignoring his tirade. I don't actually see the picture in front of me though; I'm too hyper-aware of Peeta to focus on it. Peeta falters mid-sentence, chest heaving, confusion lacing his features. He glances down at the desk.

"It's your house…" He backs away from me slowly until his knees hit the corner of the bed. He scurries around it to the other side, eyes wide with fear.

"You're a mutt too! You would know your own house," he screams, his expression one of sheer terror.

I shake my head furiously, pressing myself back against the desk. I look down at the picture and indeed find my own childhood home in the midst of what must be a Spring rain shower. The garden is bursting with blooms. I begin to cry, great heaving sobs.

"I'm sorry Peeta I didn't look at the picture, I just –"

"NO! You're a mutt, get out! HELP!" He screams as he presses himself between the bed and the dresser, sinking down to the ground.

Dr. Aurelius comes into the room with several nurses, determined to sedate Peeta. He is wild and completely terrified as they descend on him. _I did this to him_. He begins to cry as they pull him onto the mattress and strap his arms and legs down. He doesn't even fight them, just gives in, defeated. I run from the room on shaking limbs. In the hallway I'm embraced by a solid mass. Firm arms wrap around me and soft lips press kisses into my hair.

"You're alright," Gale whispers against the top of my head as I sob uncontrollably.

"You fraternizing with the cousin now too sweetheart?" Haymitch asks bitterly behind me.

I turn to him with tear-filled eyes and whisper a vivacious, "Go to hell," as Gale pulls me down the hallway away from Peeta's dying screams. Haymitch and Gale must have been watching from behind the glass. I allow Gale to lead me away. I feel myself losing steam as my tears start to cease. My whole body is shaking. Gale tightens his grip around my waist, ushering me toward the nearest elevator.

"We'll get Snow and all those bastards for what they did to Peeta," Gale says heatedly as he slams his fist against the button for the elevator.

I stare at him for a moment, his hatred and anger is palpable. It nearly radiates off him like some kinetic energy. I shake my head and enter into the lift.

"No," I whisper, "I don't believe in revenge."

* * *

><p>After a restless night's sleep and a conversation confiding in Leevy and Delly I decide that I have no choice but to go back to Peeta's room. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. Things begin to look more and more hopeful. Peeta begins to seem more and more like himself. He is allowed to leave his room, to bake, to spend time with other citizens. He still is not Peeta, but I relish even the small glimpses of who he has always been.<p>

On one of Peeta's good days I rush back to my compartment after my work assignment, excited to tell Delly about the conversation that Peeta managed to have with me about classes we took with Katniss. Instead I find Leevy and her brother talking about weddings, specifically the impending nuptials of Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair.

* * *

><p>Peeta's cake is stunning. A little flicker of hope rises in me at the thought that he can create things of beauty again. Perhaps the monsters are beginning to disappear as he is faced with more truths. Delly and I have worked so hard to bring back the memories of his youth. He started drawing and painting again in the recent weeks. The cake is breathtakingly different than those sketches though. It is probably one of the most intricate Peeta has ever made. I used to walk past the bakery on the way home from school and stop to admire his designs, dreaming that I would purchase my own wedding cake from him someday. I only hope that Peeta will continue to grow back into himself and continue making these beautiful creations. The world deserves to see that part of him.<p>

"May I have a dance," Gale's voice startles me from my reverie. I blink a few times before I turn toward him and offer a soft smile.

"Of course," I say, curtsying in the way I did at when I attended my father's Capitol parties.

Gale bows audaciously before he takes one of my hands in his and wraps the other around my waist. I place my hand on his shoulder and smirk at the formality of our stance. This isn't the type of dancing that people generally do from our district. We're more inclined to do fast-paced twirling group dances. Gale doesn't seem to mind the closeness of this style though.

"You look beautiful." He smiles genuinely as he says it, causing a flutter in my chest.

He isn't wearing the standard issue uniform that I have become accustomed to seeing on him. His broad shoulders are covered in an off-white dress shirt. I take note that his faded black slacks end an inch short, probably due to his absurdly long legs. We were all ordered to find something presentable to wear to this event as the filming crews would be surveying the crowd. Of course those of us who had survived 12's bombing had only come here with the clothes on our backs. Gale's hunting clothes were probably not considered dressy enough for this affair. Though the event is beautiful and the air is filled with joy, the idea that we must add falsities to it brings a tainted sensation to my chest.

I try to fight the blush that wants to emerge at his words and instead thank him graciously, "You're being kind, though I should say that you look handsome too." Gale laughs, scanning his eyes over the crowd. I haven't danced like this with someone in a long time. Truth be told, the last person to dance with me was probably Haymitch at Katniss and Peeta's celebration dinner. Gale wasn't even present when we honored their victory.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks as he twirls me away from him, imitating a nearby older couple. I laugh when I nearly trip over his foot on the return.

"I suppose I'm enjoying myself the best I can, and you?" I counter.

He looks around at the large crowd of happy people. He seems content with what he sees. In the distance Posy and Rory are dancing wildly, completely uninhibited by the slow music. Gale's smile increases when he sets his gaze on them.

"It feels good to see how happy people could be if this was all over. It's like a snapshot of the future in a way," he finally responds. I nod in agreement; my eyes catch sight of Annie and Finnick sharing a happy kiss as they dance.

"They truly love each other," I nod toward them.

Gale watches them for a minute with a clouded look in his eyes. Annie is laughing at something that Finnick has said to her. She looks so beautiful, ethereal in this moment. Gale is silent after he looks away.

We sway together for several songs, changing the pace for fast and slow tunes. We become more comfortable with the movements as the night progresses. Gale pulls me closer to his body, enveloping me, his palms pressing into my lower back. I shiver as one of his large hands glides up my spine. I lean into him, allowing my forehead to rest on the warm skin of his neck. A hint of the forest lingers there. It's claimed him, marked him as a wild thing. He belongs up there, unrestricted and abandoned. Untamed things don't belong in cages such as this.

That's all District 13 is, another cage to keep people in. It's easier to squash hope here. Across Panem there are fences caging the citizens like animals. There is a flaw in the system though. Fences allow for people to see the outside world, they allow for hope that you may one day be able to leave. Here you can't see the light of day. If you choose to leave this place it will only be with dog-tags wrapped around your neck, a soldier of the new resistance. Here you are an animal under control, carefully studied and monitored. At least under the reaping system you only had a _chance _of being possessed by the Capitol.

I close my eyes allowing my hips to sway in tandem with Gale's. He moves in a sensuous rhythm that brings a flush to my face and neck, quelling my bitter thoughts. He inclines his head and the soft touch of his lips hovering over my ear sends a jolt through my veins, "I'll be leaving soon."

His voice is nearly as soft as his touch, "I'll have to say goodnight when I go."

My heart clenches. He isn't talking about leaving this party. He'll be going to fight soon; we both know this is what he means to tell me. It's what he has always wanted, probably since before he even knew what it was to rebel. He won't be saying those things when the time comes, but he is saying them now. I will not accept either of them, not now, not then. _Not ever_.

As the song ends, I slowly pull away from Gale. I intend to step away completely and clear my head of his intoxicating scent so that I can confront him, make a bid for him to stay. Gale doesn't let me go completely though, he slides his palms forward to grab my hands. His are warm and steady around my shaking fingers. He moves toward the nearest hallway. My feet follow him and our hands remain melded together. He guides me along, releasing one hand so that he can wrap an arm around my shoulders. I don't ask where he is taking me. _I know where we will end up. _

As Gale pulls his access card out of his pocket and slides it through the door-lock I think to myself that I have _always_ known we would end up here eventually. Not here in this physical place, but together, about to do something that will change everything. We stare at each other with mixed emotions, the click-click of the door indicating that we can press the button to enter. Gale raises his free hand and grants us entrance to his compartment. His eyes never leave mine. The automatic door slides open and Gale pulls me across the threshold.

Finally he falters, standing solemnly in the middle of the empty room. The look on his face is close to remorse. I know he is thinking of his family. He no longer lives in the same compartment as them. He has committed to being a true soldier of the resistance. He doesn't want to leave them here in this place, but his need to be out there fighting the Capitol trumps even his deepest feelings of love. This room is much smaller than any compartment I have been in before. It smells like him.

I reach my hand up and rest it on his cheek, attempting to convey the feeling that I can't seem to articulate. We both know this isn't simply comfort anymore, but neither of us moves to verbalize it. Gale closes his eyes, sighing as he presses his face into my touch.

"Madge," he breathes my name as though it is more than the noun assigned to represent me. He makes it so much _more_. It is a prayer, a request, an admonition. I press my lips against the word, swallowing all the things that it has become.

The kiss is gentle and laced with an undercurrent. I think of our second first kiss, how Gale's lips were soft and slow. I mirror that image from my mind. Gale sighs again, and then he lifts his hands to my face, caressing it much like he did back then. It was such a different time for us both. It feels so long ago. I feel like that Madge was a silly innocent girl, clinging to childhood dreams of grandeur and romance. That Madge is slowly slipping away from me with each day. From the moment that Katniss and Peeta were reaped, _that_ Madge was doomed.

Gale pulls away from me, pressing his forehead against mine. "You should go, before –," he trails off biting at his plump lower lip in apprehension. I press my palms into his chest soaking up the warmth and feeling the steady beat of his heart. _Will you be gone tomorrow? Will you ever come back?_

"I'm not going anywhere, not if this is goodnight," I whisper. _Not if this is your goodbye._

Gale releases a whimper at the words pulling me tight against his chest and trapping my lips with his own. His hands are feverish, spreading across my shoulders and back then up into my hair. He grips it in fistfuls deepening our kiss in a way that makes electricity shiver through my spine and down my abdomen.

"I'm going to break your heart," Gale pauses but I lean in for more. I pull roughly at his shirt, yanking him as close as he can be.

"Don't let me do that, don't let me," Gale punctuates the kisses with pleas, "You're too good. You can't be this for me too." And by this, I know he means the _girl who I sleep with, the girl who I bed the night before I go off to possibly die. _

"My heart belongs to you, more than just that little piece. The whole thing is yours. I know you just don't want to say goodbye, you brought me here for that, but I won't accept it." I breathe the words onto his lips and his shaky breath mingles with mine, "If you leave I'll still be here waiting for you."

Gale backs me up against the wall then, pressing so tightly that I feel him in my very core, an inferno consuming me. The old Madge never dreamed about feelings like these, couldn't even fathom them. The old Madge thought that her first kiss _meant_ something. All _this _Madge wants is to feel anything other than empty, to ignite flames like the ones that burned her old life to the ground.

"When I took that first kiss, you were so upset. I've been taking things ever since and you always just give and give," Gale's words are rapid and shaky, "If I take this, you can't get it back Madge. It should be – "

"It should be with you. We share the pain, we share the comfort. I want you, I _need _you," I feel my heart seize with my own words; "I love you Gale."

I didn't even know this was what I wanted until this very moment. I'm standing on a precipice, a cliff looking over my valley and if I climb a few more feet I will reach the mountain ridge. I will see the sun.

_How long has it been since we left that party?_ Time has shifted and can only be measured in the heady breaths that arise in our chests. My fingers make their way to the buttons on Gale's borrowed shirt and quickly start sliding them through the little holes. Gale steps back. He looks down at my fingers and inhales a deep breath.

"Every day I wake up and think of you, I go to sleep and think of you. I don't deserve you yet," Gale's voice is thick. I look into his eyes and see desire. Underneath I can see something else, something I haven't seen often there. _Fear_.

"You love me, don't you?" I whisper against his lips, "Is that why you're so afraid?" And with that the final button is released from its hole.

Immediately I spread my shaking palms up his warm copper skin pushing the shirt off his shoulders and revealing the jagged fresh scars of his gunshot wound. I skim my fingers above the puckered flesh and lean up to press a kiss over it. Gale sighs, his eyes close as I circle around him pressing kisses to the rigid whipping lines on his back, to his shoulders, to his hands. I finish with a tender kiss to his open mouth.

"I do," he finally affirms and my heart bursts with the solid way that he releases the words, "Loving you does scare me, more than you will ever know." He runs his fingers through my hair and glides them down my back almost hesitantly.

We can no longer deny that something about our comfort has not evolved into this other feeling, this new sensation that is much deeper a need than either of us anticipated. We both have acknowledged it, voicing it somehow makes it truer. He must grow braver with his newfound affirmation because Gale gently lays me down on his mattress, pressing reverent kisses against my flushed flesh as he removes the dress that was loaned to me. He whispers his love for me into my skin, my hair, and my lips. Pressing prayers and promises into my heart, into my very soul.

Though I haven't experienced this moment before and have no comparison from which to base my feelings, everything that follows is more like a declaration of _love _than seeking comfort. We can't go back from here, Gale was right to say that I could never have this part of me back. I don't want it back though; I want to live here beside him forever.

When it all comes to a blissful end and my body is weary and sated I feel tears running down my face as Gale whispers _goodnight_, his own damp cheeks pressed into the back of my bare shoulder. The _goodbye_ goes unspoken just as he promised.

When I wake in the morning it is to an empty room. The heavy feeling returns, sliding down into the pit of my stomach like a rock in the belly of Rhoda's cauldron when she used to make stone soup. This time however it is accompanied by a deep feeling of love blossoming in my chest. A feeling that is so very different from the worry and fear it completely juxtaposes itself beside them like a flower blooming in the crevice of a cliff.

* * *

><p>Gale and Katniss have been gone for what seems like a lifetime. When I think of them, I always picture the pained expressions they wore during our visit to District 12. For some reason, I can't bring forth their smiles or laughter in my mind. All my thoughts of them are combined with images of saddened vacant grey eyes. If they were lost to me forever, I wonder if I would be left with only those terribly hollow eyes to comfort me.<p>

The day that Peeta is sent to the front I scream at Coin's retreating back. I call her all the things that she is, all the words that are synonymous with _monster_. I can't reach her so I claw at the faces of the men holding me back. I think I hear her laugh as she rounds the corner. Naturally, I'm placed in a holding cell for the duration of the evening, while Peeta takes a hovercraft that reminds me of the one they use in the arena. The irony is not lost on me.

I lay awake that night wondering how long it will take before Peeta's thin veneer cracks. It is no accident that Coin is sending him to the warfront to join Katniss. An unstable environment like that will surely make him snap. I begin to realize that is exactly what Coin wants, _to get rid of them both in one go_. And what better way than to have them destroy each other?

At some point I must drift off in a dreamless sleep, because the gentle touch of Primrose Everdeen wakes me for breakfast. "You've been released on good behavior, but I think it is really just because they've sent out more troops and need the extra hands for assignment duties," Prim informs me. She tries to smile as she helps me off the cold stiff cot.

"Morning Prim," I greet her as warmly as I can. "How did you get stuck with my release?"

She smiles softly and rolls her eyes, "I'm the only one left who has spare time it seems." I pat her shoulder affectionately as we stand in the center of the small cell.

The small gesture unleashes something in her. I see it cross her face in an instant. She looks as though she may cry at any moment, so I pull her into my arms and marvel at how tall she suddenly seems. I feel her shake before the tears actually come. I press my own wet face to the side of hers, whispering assurances to her. _How long has it been since she hugged her sister this way?_

"I'm just so worried about Katniss and everything is happening so fast. They want me to prep for healer field work," Prim chokes on her words. She presses her small palms into my back as she holds me tight.

We both know that things have gotten worse quickly, but I lie to her. I remind her how strong everyone is, how brave and determined they are. I praise her strength too and as we whisper our assurances our salty tears begin to cease.

"They'll make it," she says, "They are stronger than they should be. If anything, all they really know is how to survive." Nothing more truthful has ever been said.

Eventually, we walk to our morning assignments. I kiss the top of Prim's head when I give her a final hug. As she walks away I feel a new ache in my chest, _when did she become so timeworn, so aged beyond her years? Where is the little girl whose name was drawn by the reaper?_

* * *

><p>After only a few short days we receive word that the Star Squad was killed in an apartment complex in the Capitol. I don't believe it until I see the coverage on the television screens in the cafeteria. I vomit my lunch and spend the rest of the day hiding in a closet deliriously wavering between crying and screaming; Katniss was on to something when she used to do the same thing.<p>

Not long after that, I'm called into service at the front. Rory and Primrose sit on either side of me in the hovercraft and I can feel them shaking in tandem against me. Mrs. Everdeen, Hazelle, Posy, and a tearful Vick were visible at the front of the crowd of citizens when we marched in formation to the enormous airship. I whisper reassurances to the younger siblings of my friends. If I wasn't holding my firearm I would be squeezing their hands in mine. They book look so small and fragile. Primrose will go to the medical group at the front while Rory and I are heading in as the cavalry so to speak.

I grit my teeth when I notice that Coin is there to see our group of soldiers off. This time I don't tell her she's a monster. She must _know_ she is. Only the devil would send children to their deaths. Only the devil would sell their souls in the name of ending the Games.


End file.
